#she can see me drinking from the smaller plastic bottles that I carry with me everywhere

[silver-horse]

the water brand I usually buy has started to recycle their plastic bottles so I have to collect them and the stores will pay a bit of money for the empty bottles. I just handed over all my bottles to my parents so that they can take them back. But many of my collected bottles are a little uneven with dents on them because I drink directly from the bottle. So my mom tells me "I told you to stop sucking them out like a vampire" 😭 and "leave a bit of space next to your mouth for the air to go inside when you are drinking. Don't put your whole mouth around it like it's a dick." MOMMM PLEASE 😭

[ev-pierce-writes]

Quantum Entanglement

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Fem!Reader

Words: 6.4k (oops)

Rating: 18+ (get outta here ya children)

Summary: Steve Rogers decides to disappear, take some time for himself in the solitude of a small town where he meets you.

Warnings: p in v. oral fem receiving. size kink (reader is much smaller than Steve in more ways than one). soft (very very soft) fem dom.

AN: This is stupid soft. Just simping all over the gd place. I'm so sorry but my baby Steve deserves nothing but the purest, sweetest form of love and that's what he's getting, though I imagine he likes to be ordered around. Took me way too long to feel good about this.

---

There had been the snap. And then the resurrection. Steve had lost everyone he loved and then had most of them returned, and it felt good to go back to normal, in some ways. In other ways, it was stifling.

As the world reeled and tried to figure out how to "be normal" in a time that was anything but, normalcy felt forced, rushed, exaggerated. He wanted to be in this world, of course. The 1940s were no longer his home, and Steve had everything he wanted here. But he didn't feel complete. A piece was always missing, something from a past life, that he couldn't quite name but knew he had to find.

So he disappeared. Went undercover as some might call it. Bucky knew, of course, and Sam on some level. But to the rest of the world, he had slipped quietly back into the past to live the rest of his life. In reality, he'd slipped into Herrington, Massachusetts, a small coastal town where he was invisible to the world.

He'd found a little house, a cottage on the beach, and settled in completely. He didn't need a job, the government was more than willing to pay him a severance check of some sort, but he took one anyway, stocking the local grocery store and delivering groceries to the elderly when they ordered. It was just antiquated enough to remind him of a faraway time, of the past, but didn't force him to give up his wifi and color television. That was something he'd come to love.

And that was where he met you. You, the petite spitfire with a bone to pick with the entire world. Fierce, loyal, and slightly terrifying when double-crossed. The first time he met you, you had come out of your great-aunt's house shaking a fist over the groceries.

"I told Mr. Pierce," you were yelling, "not to skimp me on the meat." Mr. Pierce was the grocery store owner. And the meat in question was a roast, for what purpose, Steve wasn't sure, but one that apparently did not satisfy your desires.

You hadn't been the one to answer the door, that was your great-aunt Agnes, a kind, leather-faced woman who liked to tip Steve a healthy amount for "carrying all those heavy groceries for a silly old lady like me."

"It's no problem ma'am," he'd replied and stepped back toward his motorcycle, recently decked out with a basket on the back to transport deliveries. Then you'd chased him down the road until he noticed you and stopped, shouting all the way.

"When you see him," you said, your finger wagging in his face, puffing and out of breath from your yelling and running, "tell the bastard that's the last time he gets away with making me pay for his shitty cuts of meat."

Steve didn't really know what to say, but then your face softened, your voice calmed, and you took a deep breath. Maybe the panicked look on his face had made you have a change of heart. "I apologize for yelling at you, I know you're just the messenger. But that slimy son-of-a-bitch is going to get what's coming for him someday."

"I'll let him know," Steve replied with half a smile on his face.

"You aren't from around here are you?" you had asked, a sudden look of curiosity in your bright eyes.

Steve nodded. "Just moved here."

"Look, I'm really sorry." You stuck out your hand and introduced yourself, and Steve had found that hand to be surprisingly supple and calloused for its tiny size. "Let me make it up to you. Aunt Agnes seems to like you. We're having a potluck tonight, her place. Why don't you come by and meet the neighbors? I'm sure they'd love a new face, especially one as handsome and friendly as yours. Maybe make some friends, even."

You were being surprisingly friendly and sincere, and Steve had no choice but to accept the invitation.

So that's how he ended up in an old lady's backyard, handing off a bowl of his mother's jello salad (it was a potluck after all), and accepting a beer from a man who looked similar enough to be your brother (a cousin, it turned out). You didn't even notice his arrival, flying about, getting everything set up, taking part in the appropriate amount of small talk. Earlier, when you'd chased Steve down the road, your hair had been flung all about your head, wisps of it sticking out from all directions and looking positively a mess. You'd been wearing jeans with mud on the knees and a t-shirt that had more holes than necessary for your arms and head. Now, your hair was pinned back and tamed and you floated about in a soft blue sundress, revealing a delicate plane of skin across your shoulders and tan arms and legs.

The calloused hands and muddy jeans made sense now as well. The backyard of Aunt Agnes' house was primarily a garden, not only beautiful rose bushes and creeping wisteria but rows and rows of fruits and vegetables, cucumbers, tomatoes, watermelon, strawberries. The work was obviously the product of a talented gardener.

Aunt Agnes was the one to welcome him in, having noticed Steve before you did and taking his arm. She began to talk, of you and the neighborhood and her many, many family members. She introduced them one by one, though most of the names he immediately forgot. But it was a blessing to not be recognized and he relished the feeling. Sure, he'd grown out his beard and his hair was a bit longer than the standard military high and tight, and he wore a flannel with the sleeves rolled up instead of red, white, and blue spangles, but it still amazed him that he could pass through the world like this.

Eventually, the conversations became too much, and Steve excused himself to the kitchen to find a drink while he waited for the food to be ready. Really he just wanted some silence, a relief from society. But you'd beat him there, and, ever the busy bee, were scrambling to fill a cooler with more ice.

"Steve!" you exclaimed when you saw him, pleasant surprise plastered across your face. "I'm so glad you came."

You reached out and gave him a hug that took Steve so much by surprise he almost forgot to return it. It was shockingly warm, your arms around his neck, and though he had to stoop down to your level, he wrapped his arms around your waist anyways.

"I hope they didn't overwhelm you out there. My family can be a lot."

"No, not at all. Just needed some quiet. I'll let you get back to work."

"I could actually use your help if you don't mind."

You directed him into the front room toward a stack of boxes, cases of drinks he assumed. When Steve returned to the kitchen, all four boxes piled in his arms, you nearly dropped the glasses in your hands in shock. You recovered quickly, trying to remain polite despite your poorly hidden astonishment, but Steve could already tell you were trying to compute how he had managed to carry over a hundred pounds of drinks in one go.

"You can, um, put them on the counter I guess," you managed to stutter out. Your sudden flustered state was amusing, and Steve noticed he liked the way you seemed almost embarrassed, cheeks flushed pink, though he had no idea why you should feel that way.

But then you picked back up with your normal bubbly chatter, and Steve found himself lingering longer and longer in the kitchen with you until he realized neither of you were doing anything but talking, the work abandoned in lieu of discussions about the town, your stall at the farmers market, and eventually, very naturally, the passing of your parents. The slip into deep conversation was easy, surprisingly easy, easier than it had ever been with anyone else, even though Steve felt himself having to lie a bit about his past. Sure, he could admit to being from Brooklyn and having no family and his stint in the military, but that was about the extent of it. He found himself wanting to tell you more but refraining.

When your cousin called that food was ready from the backyard, the jolt back to reality was abrupt and almost unwelcome, until you smiled and allowed him to put a hand on your back, pulling Steve out to enjoy some food.

As night fell, lights twinkled on in the backyard, and the summer heat reduced to a light thrum as the breeze from the ocean swept through the town. Fireflies glowed in the darkness of the low trees behind the house and you seemed to glow as well, good food and friendly conversation lighting your face up with joy. You caught Steve's eye several times during the night, noticing him watching you from across the garden, but he didn't care. He liked that his attention made you smile.

Finally, the party began to dwindle, as parents with young kids trickled out, followed by the older folks, heading off to bed. Soon, even Aunt Agnes turned in and only the cousins close to you in age remained. They pulled out the stronger bottles of alcohol, sitting in plastic chairs and passing shots around the barbeque that still glowed hot with coals. Steve accepted every pass of vodka that came his way, despite knowing it wouldn't get him even remotely drunk. But the camaraderie of the moment helped ease a bit of that gaping hole in his soul so he clung to it as best he could. And you were sitting next to him, insisting he take a sip, and again he couldn't turn you down.

"And then Jack nearly sunk the boat in the bay," you were saying, telling the story of one of your cousin's finer moments. "Your dad almost killed us."

"Oh you want to bring that up?" he teased. "How about the time you snuck out and Aunt Agnes caught you making out with Michael on the beach."

You blushed bright red at the reminder but protested that was years ago. Then another cousin brought up his own late-night escapades and you devolved into a fit of giggles, leaning so far out of your chair that Steve had to catch you before you slipped right to the ground. Your hand gripped his to recover but, to his surprise, you never removed it, even as you righted yourself in your seat. Your hand just remained in his, your small fingers wrapped in his large ones, as you turned to pester him into telling a story.

"What about you Steve? Tell us an embarrassing story."

He looked around at the group and they leaned in expectantly, curious to know more about the stranger who was quickly becoming a friend. Steve didn't know what to say, most of his stories involving things he wasn't yet ready to reveal about himself. So he picked one from long ago.

"I once picked a fight with a guy at a bar. He was a bit of a Nazi. Got my ass kicked. Fortunately, I had a friend to back me up or he definitely would have killed me."

Everyone looked shocked. "But you're so strong," someone spoke up. "Look at you. How could anyone beat you in a fight?"

Steve shrugged, not wanting to admit to it being a pre-serum story. "Guess I'm a bit of a pacifist."

He turned to you to gauge your reaction. Your eyes were wide, sparkling with mischief and curiosity and a hint of disbelief. For a moment Steve thought you had figured it out, figured out who he was, but then you started giggling again and the only thing keeping you in your seat was his hand in yours.

"That's not embarrassing Steve, that's just the most fucking noble thing I've ever heard. Making us all look bad."

Your teasing words made his heart flutter in his chest and he felt like he could get used to this crowd.

Eventually, the coals of the barbeque started to wink out, and the cousins excused themselves for the night, heading home on foot to the various houses they had come from. It seemed no one lived too far apart in this town. Suddenly, the backyard was quiet.

"Can I give you a hand cleaning up?" Steve asked, not wanting to leave you with the job that looked a bit overwhelming to him.

You looked around and shrugged, a little tipsy but fully aware that it was a big mess. "I'll probably just take care of it in the morning. Can you just help me get the dishes inside?"

Steve obediently gathered up plates and cups, filling the dishwasher in several trips. Finally, the last were inside and you stood in the kitchen filling the sink to wash the pots and pans while Steve tried awkwardly to find a way to say goodbye.

"Um, thank you," he said at last, "for welcoming me into your community. It means a lot. I'll, uh, see you later I guess. Have a good night."

You stopped your scrubbing to look up at him, bubbles up to your elbows, your face flushed from the warm night air and the alcohol.

"Steve?"

"Yeah?"

You paused, hesitant, eyes searching his face for confirmation of a mutual feeling. "Do you ever feel like you were meant to meet someone? For a reason?"

The question hit him like a ton of bricks, and he realized that this night had made him feel exactly that way, that somehow he was meant to end up here and meet you, of all people. Why else had there been an instant connection unless this was just the way you were with everyone?

But your question made him think otherwise. You had to be special. Steve, in that moment, could do nothing but nod in affirmation. And then, like you had both had the same thought at the same moment, you were meeting him halfway, rising on your tiptoes, wrapping your arms around his neck, and kissing him. Really, truly, kissing him.

It was like that missing piece had found itself. You slotted your soul into his and Steve was pressing you to his chest, wrapping his arms around you, and lifting you so he didn't have to bend down to reach you. Your wet hands tangled into his slightly too long hair, pulling him impossibly closer, tasting one another's tongues.

And that was the start of it, of late-night motorcycle rides down the causeway, of Saturdays spent on the beach that tapered into drinks with friends, of dinners filled with your chatter and smiles and laughter, and Steve couldn't believe how lucky he was. He was not used to this feeling, of building friendship and companionship and perhaps even love. And he certainly wasn't used to the intense desire to reach out and pinch your ass every time you showed up at his house wearing those gardening jeans, high-waisted and tight and so goddamn cute.

But he never did, was never sure how you'd react. You kissed him, a lot in fact, every morning that he came over and every night that he dropped you off at home. And you never shied away from telling him how handsome he was, how much you liked his hands and his arms and his short beard, how sweet he was and kind and soft and gentle. So many words, words that made his head spin and his world wobble and sway. But it never came to be more than that, never late at night when he was thinking of you most. And oh lord, did he think about you, how your small frame might fit against his in bed while you spooned and slept, or how tight you'd be if he fucked you until the sun rose. He didn't particularly like sleeping in bed, it was too soft for his taste and he tended to take the couch or even the floor most nights, but he would sleep in bed for you if you would just tell him that was what you wanted.

It was like you were waiting for the right moment. And apparently, that moment was July 4th, during the annual celebration. Steve had whispered to you that it was consequently also his birthday, and had begged you to keep that a secret, but it seemed you had simply forgotten the fact entirely. The day passed without mention that Steve was turning 39 (105 if he'd been really counting) and you kissed him as the fireworks exploded over the ocean, sitting in the sand, hands tangled together. He thought the two of you would sit through the show, but then you were standing and pulling him to his feet as well and slipping away as everyone else's faces were turned to the sky.

At your house, you pulled a small cake from the fridge, just big enough to split between two people, and lit a couple of candles as you sat next to him at the kitchen table. Of course, you hadn't forgotten.

"Make a wish," you said with a happy smile. So he did, hoping this summer would never end. "What did you wish for?"

"Can't tell you, otherwise it won't come true," he replied. But then you pouted and he lost all resolve. "How about I show you instead?"

The look on your face said it all, shock mixed with intrigue and the mischief he had noticed that first night almost a week ago. So he reached down and tugged your chair closer, forcing you to face him with your knees between his. And then he leaned over and kissed you, taking your small cheeks in his large palms, putting all the power of his suppressed feelings behind it. He hoped you understood that he wanted more than to just kiss you, he wanted to occupy space inside you, fill you, complete you. Steve could feel your smile against his lips.

You pulled away. "Did you wish that I was dessert instead of the cake?

"I might have. Should we make my wish come true?"

Again you smiled, bright and guiding like a lighthouse torch, and something in your demeanor changed. Instantly, you were relenting to his touch, letting him pull you further into his lap, straddling his waist and settling into him like that was where you were meant to be. The quiet house, probably as old as him in this New England town, creaked in the silence of the night, only occasionally disturbed by the bang of a firework. But it all faded away with you in his arms.

You fit perfectly, just as Steve had hoped.

"You gonna be gentle with me, big man?" you whispered, that same brilliant smile on your face, wiggling as close to him as possible, the fingers of one hand tangled into the hair at the nape of his neck, the others tracing down the point of his sharp nose and pressing against his soft lips. "You gonna fuck me good? Be a good boy?"

Oh, Christ. Steve nearly lost his mind with your hips so tight against his, lost it at your words that made his heart race and color rise to his cheeks. He could be good. Really damn good. You seemed to know something about him that Steve didn't even know about himself, of how much he liked your praise, your commanding tone. If there was anything he was good at, it was taking orders.

"You just keep telling me what to do and I'm all yours," he mumbled against your fingers, the thump of his heart beating in time with yours somewhere deep in your chest, echoes of one another in the silence of the house. Your hand came to grip his chin, pushing another kiss against his mouth, a kiss with lips parted in a sigh, the mingled palate of you and him, like a glass of wine on the beach and chocolate melted on the tongue, sweeping over taste buds and breathed into starved lungs.

"Mm, you taste so good. Like you were created just for me, don't you think?" you asked.

"Built from the best material, just for you." Built to love you, he wanted to say. Steve shut up instead.

You hummed with pleasure and the hand on his chin gripped a little harder, a little more suggestively. He opened his mouth obediently as you slipped your thumb between his lips, and he let you press it against the soft muscle of his tongue. You wanted him to taste you, so he did, his teeth biting gently down on the pad of your finger, another pleasant hum running down your body and straight to his groin.

He waited for your instruction.

"Undress me."

He complied, obediently. Steve's large hands hiked your sundress up around your waist, revealing the softness of your hips. His fingers smoothed up the length of your thighs, kneading at the flesh of your ass that he had so longed to touch. Your reaction was music to his ears, a soft moan leaving your lips and breathed against his, and Steve closed his eyes, arousal spreading through his body at the thought that he was making you react this way. His length hardened, tight in his pants, pressed against the thin layer of fabric that covered the heat of your core. The thought that he might not fit flickered through his mind but it dissipated at the feeling of your fingers pressing into the rough stubble of his jawline.

Steve's hands continued to travel further up your body, taking time to release the zipper of your dress down the length of your spine, and you answered his quiet, "can I?" by pulling slightly away and lifting your arms over your head. The dress landed somewhere in the kitchen and Steve dragged you close again, arms wrapped around your back to encompass you completely, his lips finding purchase against the skin of your neck.

"Look at you, so perfect," Steve mumbled, face pressed into your hair. If he had looked up he would have seen you blush, but he was too preoccupied letting his senses discover every piece of you he could touch, smell, or taste. He wanted to envelop you, inch by inch, roaming and discovering and satiating his curiosity, but you dragged his attention back to your face.

"Hey, eyes up here," you said, pulling his face toward yours and locking gazes. The intensity of your eye contact was stunning, but there was something else behind those eyes, something other than intense attraction and unsatisfied arousal. Was it doubt? Insecurity? The reason why you kissed him for so many nights and never asked for more? You were searching for something, and it came in the form of a question. "You won't leave me after this, right?"

There it was, the bit of insecurity, a fear of loss, of transience, of lacking control. Someone had hurt you before. Maybe that's why you approached everything in life with such ferocity and sincerity. But Steve would never hurt you like that, never let you feel that way again. He hoped you could see it in his eyes the way he felt about you, but words would be more reassurance. "I'm yours tonight. And tomorrow. And the day and week and month and year after that, if you'll have me that long. Whatever it is you need, I'll give it to you."

You blinked and then smiled and pressed another quick kiss to his lips before murmuring, "touch me" against them. So he did, trailing his hands over every sliver of skin before him. He felt the goosebumps rising in their wake, the downy hair on your legs and arms, the heat of your core against him, grinding almost imperceptibly to find some kind of friction, any friction. He wanted to touch you so desperately, but he got the sense that you needed to take the lead, that it would give the control you felt you lacked. So he slid a hand down the plane of your stomach and stopped just shy of dipping into your panties, waiting for your word. But you were no longer interested in playing games. Your hand found his and pulled him lower, using his fingers to press into the seem of your cunt, and he found you slick and warm with desire.

You urged him forward. "Rub my clit, baby. Slowly. Gently."

Slowly and gently. That he could do. His fingers crept absentmindedly closer to the swollen bundle of nerves and when he landed there, touch soft and circling, you jerked against him, your whole body moving with the force of anticipation and a cry leaving your lips. And though it seemed to burn, seemed to be torture for yourself, you demanded he do it again. Your forehead leaned against his, eyes shut tight, and Steve watched as your face contorted in pleasure as he flicked and circled again and again and again.

"Yes, baby. Perfect. So good. So. Fucking. Good."

Every bit of you was soft, from your neck where he placed his kisses to the curled hair hiding the swollen bud of your clit where his fingers played gently and rhythmically. Even the orgasm that gushed from your smooth cunt and stuttered from your lips was soft. You came with a choked cry as your hand pulled him closer by the back of his head, your tits pressed to his chest. Steve looked up to watch you devolve into pleasure, eyes squeezed tightly shut, your hair messy and swirling about your face, the straps of your bra slipping from your shoulder.

"Bed. Now. Right now," you demanded before you even had a chance to come down from your high. He would have been just as happy to have you in the kitchen, just like that, but Steve picked you up, with you latched to his chest like a koala, and carried you upstairs. You felt feather-light in his arms, easily tossed onto the mattress, your hands reaching out to pull his white t-shirt overhead and grab at the plane of his chest. Even as Steve kissed you again you couldn't stop tracing your fingertips over the lines of his torso, the ridges of his abs, the v-line that led tantalizingly toward the waistband of his pants. He felt his cock twitch and strain against the fabric of his boxers, the rough cotton not enough to stimulate him but enough to make him ache for your pussy. Your fluttering hands were not helping and Steve pictured your thin fingers wrapping around his length.

"Look at you," you said. "You're fucking perfect." It was Steve's turn to blush.

Steve wasn't...inexperienced. But it had been a while, to say the least, since he'd had the time or energy or capacity to even feel attracted to anyone. And even longer, perhaps never, since he felt the way he felt about you, like a bee to a flower, drunk on sweet nectar and high on honey. That was you, the delicate flower, so small and tender beneath him, yet as stunning and resonating and thunderous as the fireworks bursting somewhere overhead.

Fighting to survive was all Steve had known for so long, standing up to the bully and helping the fallen to their feet, that it was a relief to not have to be that man for you. You didn't require protection or help or anything from him at all, and yet you welcomed his presence endlessly. Steve realized he was not a need for you, but a want, and for the first time he felt valued for something real, something that wasn't just his brute strength, but something almost bordering on love. This he understood as he stared at your sweet face, caging you beneath him in bed.

"Earth to Steve," you said softly as your legs wrapped around his waist, pulling his pelvis down toward yours and dragging a deep groan from his lungs. He hadn't noticed he'd stopped kissing you and was getting lost in drinking you in amidst his reverie until your small hand pressed to the back of his neck and gently guided him back to your lips. But you stopped just shy, your eyebrows knitted in concern, taking his leisurely manner for uncertainty. "We can stop if you want."

"No, definitely not."

"Good. Then stop staring and kiss me."

"Where?" he teased.

"Everywhere, big man."

Everywhere was doable. So he started at your lips with one so big and breathless it rivaled Mount Everest. For a moment he let himself forget about everything except how long he could go without oxygen against your lips. But there remained more of you to taste.

Steve's lips connected with your chin and slid down your jawline, taking time to kiss the pulse of your neck and the dip of your clavicle. The fan of his breath tickled across your skin and you giggled, the purest sound of joy bubbling from your lips at his touch. More of that he wanted. So he continued down to the valley between your breasts, full and round despite your stature, removing your bra as he did so, nibbling lightly at the peaks of your chest before replacing his teeth with his pinching fingers and moving lower again. Lower toward the edge of your ribs, arched upward to meet the movement of his mouth, toward the slope of your hips, his sharp nose following each kiss as your underwear joined your bra into the abyss.

Your thighs he kissed, top to bottom, left and right, but it was your ass he couldn't get enough of, filling his grip with handfuls of your flesh, using it to pull you toward the edge of the bed where he kneeled, lifting your hips toward his face, your legs slung one over each shoulder. Steve sunk his tongue into your folds without warning and you gasped, your thighs suddenly squeezing tight around his head.

"Yes, right there," you hissed between ragged breaths.

He responded by burying deeper, gripping you harder, and moaning with delight at your overwhelming taste and scent bombarding his senses. You squirmed but didn't pull away as Steve's hands worked their way back up your stomach to cup the tissue of your breasts, the width of his palms capturing the flesh in one big handful. Your hands covered his, holding them there, forcing him to press you into the bed while his mouth left you twitching and bucking beneath his touch.

And in spite of the urgency with which Steve wished to devour you, he continued on leisurely, doing his best to build you up slowly and gently pick you apart bit by bit the way you had asked him to do it before. Your body betrayed its delight, evidenced enough by the way your legs hooked around him and held him down, but you praised him anyways, rapture falling from your lips between sporadic moans of pleasure.

"Fuck, Steve, you're so good, oh God yes, baby, you're doing so good, taste me like that," you cried, and the words spurred him onward, hurried his movements just slightly, his tongue circling your clit, fingers circling your areolas. He would do whatever you asked, jump off a cliff, take a bullet to the chest, drown himself in a river, if only to please you. But you would never ask anything of him that he couldn't give, and Steve knew the moment you asked for his heart it would be his heart you'd receive. And with that intent in his mind, he made you come undone with a silent cry.

Eventually, the trembling ceased, even as he continued to drink your release with the ministrations of his tongue.

"Oh fuck, you like the way I taste baby?" you asked. His affirmation came out muffled and sloppy between your legs. Even you were breathless, barely getting out the words, but you pushed him nonetheless. "I wanna hear you say it, Steve. You like eating me out? Like drinking my juices?"

"Fuck, yes, you taste like goddamn heaven, darling."

"Kiss me, Steve."

"Yes, ma'am."

He complied without a second thought, crawling back up your body to lean over you, giving you a taste of the heaven he had just dipped into. When your fingers found his belt, he helped you remove the rest of his clothes. And then your hands were roving down his chest again, searching blindly until they found what they were looking for. Steve groaned at your touch on his swollen cock.

You gasped. "Oh, God."

Before Steve could respond you pushed him over onto his back and straddled his thighs, eyeing the length on display before you, fingers around it as if testing the girth and finding them unable to wrap all the way around.

"Oh God," you repeated. A short laugh bubbled up from your throat, the controlling front you'd managed to maintain this whole time slipping from your tone.

"Something wrong?" he asked, feeling slightly inadequate under your scrutiny. Steve sat up to meet your eyes, hands finding their place on your hips.

You gazed at him, eyes wide and glassy. "You're gonna split me in half with that thing."

"We don't have to. Not if you aren't comfortable."

"Oh baby, I'm gonna get real comfortable sitting on your cock." Your sultry grin was back and you rose up on your knees to look down at him. Your other hand swiped between your legs, two fingers gathering the warm, wet juices of your orgasm, before joining the first around his cock. You pumped, rolling a drop of precum off the tip with your thumb and rubbing it down his length, mixing the release of your pleasure with his. Steve barely held back from bucking his hips into your hand. He would save that for your pussy.

"I want you to fill me," you whispered. "I wanna be so fucking full. Just go slowly, okay?"

"Slowly. I got you, baby girl. You can take me. Let me fill you."

Steve lifted your hips and guided you forward, aligning your entrance with his length. You moved at a crawling pace, letting gravity sink your pussy around him, pausing every inch to adjust to his intrusion. His biceps stung with the grip of your fingernails in his skin, but it was a welcome distraction from the rush of pleasure threatening to tip him over the edge prematurely. Agonizingly you dipped further, a cry falling from your lips, until you were fully seated, the tip of him pressed into the cavity behind your cervix. You were warm, so, so warm, and soft and tight and you fit perfectly, just like he knew you would.

"Fuck, Steve, you're so big."

"Am I hurting you?" he asked, wiping away a tear from your cheek with his thumb.

"No, fuck, no, you feel so good. I just--I can't move."

"I got you, darling," Steve whispered, his face falling to your chest and burying it in the soft flesh of your tits. And then he wrapped his arms around your waist and did all the moving for you, lifting you up and sinking you down again, just fast enough to make you gasp for air and whine his name. With every thrust, you cried out in pleasure.

"Don't stop, Steve, please, baby, don't stop."

The fingers of one hand tugged at his hair dampened by sweat, nails scratching lightly across his scalp, as the other fell between your legs. You pressed your fingers around your clit and along your entrance, feeling where Steve's thick cock was pushing in and out of your tight pussy, feeling how big he was, how much he filled you. The meandering touch of your fingers almost sent him straight over the edge.

But it was the slick warmth of your cunt that was too much, and Steve found himself resting his forehead more and more heavily against your chest, willing himself to give you everything you wanted before he even thought about himself. The satin scent of your skin, like talcum and rose and his cologne, intoxicated him with every breath, and he sucked and nibbled on one breast and then the other, mindlessly attending to the most sensitive parts of you. A drop of sweat rolled down your sternum and Steve chased it with his tongue, licking a warm stripe up the center of your chest.

"Tell me what you need, darling."

"Fuck, that's perfect," you whined. "You fuck me so good, baby. Don't stop. Gonna make me come--make me come so hard."

Your fingers pressed against your clit once more and then you were clenching around him, your already tight pussy settling into a pulsing vice grip, your body shaking against his while he kissed the sweat from your collar bones. Steve felt you pumping the life out of him, riding out your orgasm and dragging him closer to his. The hand that had been on your clit moved to cup the weight of his balls, pinching and massaging as they pulled in heavy with the need for release.

"Where do you want me, darling, you gotta tell me."

You practically ordered him to come inside you, told him you wanted to feel him sticky between your thighs all night and it was suddenly Steve's turn to come undone, his hot seed pumping deep inside you, his twitching member finally finding release. He moaned your name against your lips, pulling you into a final searing kiss.

When, after a good twenty minutes of not moving from that position, of breathing heavy and kissing softly, you finally pulled away to lean down and lick his cock clean, the sticky mingling of you and him on your tongue, and he had to fight the urge to get hard again. And when you kissed him again, he tasted that mingling, two souls becoming one, as they were meant to be.

He slept next to you for the first time that night, your small frame encased in his, even though there was no need to share body heat in the dead of summer. But he actually slept, no dreams, no nightmares, no waking up in the middle of the night. Just deep, heavy sleep, your head tucked beneath his chin, back to his bare chest, his hands holding your breasts, and your hands holding his. Tangled together. Souls as one.

[snelbz]

Life As We Know it {Chapter 15}

Summary: After the sudden deaths of Nesta’s sister and Cassian’s best friend, they gain guardianship of their nephew, Nyx.

Based on Life As We Know It (2010) and a prompt sent in by anonymous for our Nessian fanfic contest. This is a modern au.

Instead of doing a tag list for this story, we have decided to have a set posting schedule. Chapters will be posted weekly on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Saturdays. Occasional surprise chapters could be posted at miscellaneous times. Chapters will be posted on both my and Tara’s blogs! >> @tacmc.​

Life As We Know It Masterlist

Shelby’s Masterlist

Tara’s Masterlist

Nesta looked in the mirror and figured she looked decent enough. Having not been on an actual date in quite some time, she felt a little off her game, but the dress she had chosen felt better than the others she had tried on.

After admiring the deep, crimson color and the way her breasts looked in the low neckline, Nesta sprayed her hair and slipped on her heels before grabbing her clutch and walking down the stairs.

Nyx was in the living room, bouncing up and down in his exersaucer. When he saw Nesta, he grinned.

“Hi, sweet boy,” she said, leaning down to kiss the top of his head and hoping her lipstick hadn’t rubbed off. “Cassian?”

“Kitchen!”

“I’m heading out,” Nesta said, leaning back up.

He was a room away, in the kitchen, making the gods knew what for their dinner. Nyx always ate whatever she made for him, but it was typically a challenge. Earlier in the week, Cass had started deviating from his generic meals for Nyx of jarred baby food and puffs. It seemed like it didn’t matter what the man fed him, Nyx adored it.

She made her way into the other room and stood behind a chair at the kitchen table and cleared her throat. “I shouldn’t be home too late,” she said, drumming her fingers along the wood.

Cass glanced back at her and his eyebrows rose. “You sure? You look pretty nice for shouldn’t be home too late.”

Blushing, she said, “We’re just going to dinner.”

He turned back to the stove, where he was sautéing some broccoli and carrots, but she caught the smirk on his face. “I doubt dinner will be the only thing he wants to eat.”

A knock from the front door halted whatever her response was going to be.

For a moment, neither of them moved, then Cassian blinked. “Are you going to get that or should I?”

Nesta huffed as she made her way back through the house and opened the front door.

Balthazar was there, that glorious smile plastered on his handsome face. His brown eyes went wide in appreciation. “Wow. You look incredible.”

Nesta looked down at her dress before saying, “Thanks. You look pretty good yourself.”

“Thanks-.”

“Alright, don’t keep her out too late and make sure she doesn’t drink too much.” Nesta spun around to find Cassian leaning against the wall, his arms crossed. “She’s not a pretty drunk.”

She widened her eyes at him, not sure if he was joking or not. The glimmer in his eyes said yes, but she couldn’t be sure.

Balthazar narrowed his eyes slightly, his gaze trailing down Cassian’s arms. “Are you Illyrian?”

Nesta swore she felt the tension in the room thicken at the three words.

“I am,” Cassian said, and she wondered if the flexing of his arms was intentional or not. “So I’d be real careful what the next words out of your mouth are.”

Balthazar smirked and unbuttoned one of his shirt sleeves, rolling it up to reveal—

Illyrian markings.

Cassian’s brows shot up and Nesta looked back and forth between the two of them.

“You’re from Illyria?” Nesta asked, once it was clear that Cassian wouldn’t say a thing.

“I am,” Balthazar said. “Grew up in the mountains. Moved here nearly a decade ago, but my parents still live there. I go there a couple of times a year.”

Cassian whistled before Nesta could say anything. “The mountains are beautiful. My mom used to take me up there for a getaway when I was younger.”

“Ah, yeah, I love it there,” Balthazar said. “I’d love to move back someday.”

Nesta cleared her throat, awkwardly. “I hate to break up this bonding moment, but we do have dinner reservations.”

“Right, of course,” Balthazar said, nodding. He stepped back, letting Nesta by. “If you’re ready, we can go.”

“Cass, have a good night,” she said, throwing him a look over her shoulder.

“Yeah, y’all, have fun,” he said, smirking at her as he closed the door behind them.

Balthazar walked Nesta to his car, opening her door for her and heading to his own side, climbing behind the driver seat. They rode in silence for a second before Balthazar said, “I’m glad you said yes.”

Nesta, despite herself, blushed as she looked over at him across the car. “I am, too.”

*

Cassian hadn’t been lying when he told Nesta he wanted her to go out with the doctor. If she had a boyfriend, he’d be less likely to think about sleeping with her again.

But he hadn’t expected to see another Illyrian at the front door. There would have been no way he could’ve known, since Nyx had only had to go to the doctor once while they’d had him, but surely Rhys would have mentioned that his son’s doctor was Illyrian at least once. There weren’t many Illyrians in Velaris, most of them choosing to stay in Illyria, to the north.

He hated that Balthazar was a nice guy.

A great guy.

A damn Illyrian.

While Nesta was gone, Cassian tried to keep his mind off of her on her date. And yet, it’s all he could think about, which was ridiculous. Nesta deserved to be happy, deserved to have fun.

And Cassian wasn’t complaining. He loved hanging out with Nyx, loved doing all the things that uncles did. And yet, Cassian felt off.

Everything was better when Nesta was around.

Nyx whimpered and Cassian seemed to understand as he lifted his nephew out of his bouncy seat and cradled him in his arms.

“Aunt Nesta will be home soon,” he crooned, bouncing Nyx.

The baby still looked around, looking for her.

For the first couple months after the accident, Nyx had constantly looked around, constantly searched for Rhys and Feyre. But recently, he hadn’t been looking around much anymore, and when he was it was for one of them.

Silently, Cassian had hoped it didn’t mean he was forgetting about Rhys and Feyre.

He sighed, carrying him to the kitchen. “Uncle Cass wants some ice cream, how does that sound?”

He clapped once and Cassian chuckled. He got a big bowl, with two spoons and settled back on the couch, Nyx next to him.

Nyx’s bites were much smaller, and Cassian tried his best not to laugh when his eyebrows bunched together, a little brain freeze hitting him unexpectedly. After he’d had a few bites, Cassian set him down on the carpet, letting him crawl over to where his toys sat on the floor.

“When are you gonna walk, dude?” He asked, watching as he banged two plastic blocks against each other.

Nyx had mastered pulling himself up right before he turned one. Yet for whatever reason, he still hasn’t taken his first steps. He and Nesta talked about it a lot, and they’d discussed whether it was something they should ask his doctor about.

He supposed Nesta could do so tonight if she was so inclined.

“It’s about time for bed, you know,” Cassian said, watching as Nyx threw his toys across the living room. “For you and me. Once you go to sleep, I’ll be right behind you.”

Nyx made a noise that nearly made Cassian laugh out loud.

“Exactly,” Cassian went on. “So, let’s get you in your pajamas, then Uncle Cassian is going to relax for a while.”

Nyx didn’t protest as Cassian carried him upstairs and started to get him ready for bed. Cassian gave Nyx a bath and got him into his pajamas before he laid him in his crib. After patting his belly, Cassian went back downstairs and laid on the couch.

He laid in silence for ten minutes before deciding that Nyx was sound asleep and nothing would wake him.

Now, all he could think about was Nesta’s date.

He didn’t let himself think about why that was.

*

Nesta wasn’t sure she had laughed this hard in months. She was actually fairly sure she hadn’t.

Not since before the accident.

“Wait, wait,” she said, using her napkin to dab underneath her eyes, having laughed so hard that tears slipped out. “There were how many people there?”

“At least two thousand at the game and way, way more watching on TV,” Balthazar replied, cringing, reliving the time he’d accidentally been pantsed during a championship baseball game in college.

And had left nothing to the imagination.

Nesta was laughing again, but took a sip of her wine and shook her head. She was having an amazing time. The conversation was coming easily, the food was delicious, and Bal had made a spectacular wine choice.

He reached across the table and took her hand. “I’m having a good time,” she admitted, surprising herself.

He brushed a thumb over her knuckles and smiled. “I am, too.”

Nesta looked down where their hands met. His hands were interesting. Softer than she expected, but strong. Not rough, at all, like Cassian’s were.

Her eyes snapped up to Bal’s.

She wasn’t going to think about Cassian.

“You know, I hear they have amazing desserts here,” Nesta went on, keeping her hand in his.

“I hear the same,” Balthazar said. “In fact, I may have ordered us a sample board while you were in the ladies’ room.”

Nesta raised a brow. “Is that so?”

Balthazar nodded with a grin. “I figured why only taste one when you can taste them all?”

Nesta laughed, quietly. “I couldn’t have said it better myself.”

Just as dessert came, Balthazar ordered another bottle of wine, and Nesta was blown away. Once again, she knew that doctors made good money, but it was surely the most extravagant date she had ever been on.

Having already eaten the cheesecake and the pavlova, Nesta scooped up a bite of chocolate cake and moaned. Her eyelids fluttered shut and she sighed, delighted.

When she opened her eyes, Balthazar was watching her, intently.

Nesta’s cheeks turned pink.

If she would have been asked to sleep with Balthazar a week before, she would have surely said yes. But now? Even with that look in his eye, she hesitated. He was handsome. Sexy, even, and she was certain that underneath his suit he was built like a Greek god. He was charming. He was kind. He was a perfect gentleman.

On paper, he was complete and utter perfection in every single way.

A part of her — a bigger part of her than she liked to admit — however, couldn’t shake the pleasure she had received only nights before by someone who was very much not the man sitting across the table from her now.

“I’m stuffed,” Nesta said, at last, draining what was left in her wine glass.

“Happily stuffed or in pain stuffed?” Balthazar asked, his voice a little quieter, that look in his eye remaining.

Nesta chuckled, softly. “Oh, happily, for sure.”

“Good,” Balthazar replied, and waved to the server for their check.

They were back in his car within fifteen minutes, and Balthazar reached across the middle console to take Nesta’s hand.

She let him.

“I have to confess,” Balthazar began, his voice just above the soft radio, “that I don’t want this night to end.”

“Does that mean that you’re taking me out again?” Nesta asked, looking over at him.

He smiled, not taking his eyes off the road. “Does that mean you’re saying yes to another date?”

“I wouldn’t be opposed,” she replied, tracing the line of his long fingers with her free hand. She quietly admitted, “Though, I won’t have another free Saturday for a couple of weeks.”

“That’s okay.” He pulled their joined hands across the console and pressed his lips to the back of her hand. “I can wait.”

His lips were warm against her skin, and he had just a bit of stubble on his face, enough to tickle, not to scratch. She swallowed roughly, wondering again what he would be like as a lover. From what she knew of him, she was almost sure that he would be sure, slow and calculated. Everything he’d do would be to ensure her pleasure, which she certainly wouldn’t be opposed to, but…

She wasn’t sure if that’s what she wanted anymore, not when she knew how amazing it could be to be with someone who was completely unleashed, who was frenzied as he tried to bring her to release, and—

Balthazar said something and Nesta was completely lost in her thoughts. She cleared her throat, grateful he couldn’t see the blush on her cheeks as she said, “I’m sorry, I was out of it for a moment.”

He chuckled quietly. “It’s okay. I asked if you might want to see a movie one night this week, if you had any free nights?”

Nesta thought about it for a moment. “I’m free on Thursday.”

“Thursday,” he repeated, and nodded. “Alright. Thursday. I’ll pick you up at seven?”

“Perfect,” Nesta said, smiling as Balthazar pulled into her driveway.

He parked, got out, opened Nesta’s door, and walked her up to the front door. “Until Thursday, then.”

“Until Thursday,” she promised. He leaned forward and kissed her, softly.

It was a quick kiss, but it was nice.

They said their goodbyes then Nesta was opening the door, making her way inside.

The house was quiet, as she expected it to be at a quarter till eleven. After slipping off her shoes and setting her clutch near the door, Nesta was tiptoeing through the house, only stopping when she caught sight of Cassian sprawled across the couch.

She couldn’t help the smile that bloomed as she looked at him. He had one of Nyx’s stuffed animals clutched in his hand, halfway behind his head almost as if he was using it as a pillow. One of his legs hung off the side of the couch, his foot pressed flat against the floor, and Nesta couldn’t help the quiet chuckle as she stood there, looking at him. He looked so peaceful while he was asleep, his face relaxed and almost boyish like this. It was so at odds with the smirking mischief she usually saw there. She wondered if this is what he would have looked like if she would have asked him to stay in her bed the other night. Shaking her head, Nesta quickly banished the thought, not wanting to detract from the almost perfect date she’d just had.

Glancing around the living room, she noticed that it was an absolute wreck. Toys were strewn everywhere, as if they’d been thrown as far as Nyx’s little hands could manage them, and a completely melted, but mostly empty bowl of ice cream sat on the coffee table. Unable to stop the quiet chuckle, she silently picked up Nyx’s toys, putting them back in the basket where they belonged. She also scooped up the remains of the bowl of ice cream and carried it into the kitchen.

She turned the water on a low stream and was rinsing out the bowl when she heard a sleepy voice behind her.

“You’re home early.”

The rasp in his voice made her knees weak.

She looked over her shoulder to find Cassian leaning against the doorframe, his eyelids half fallen, one hand scratching the back of his neck.

Nesta chuckled. “Early? Must not be too early if you’re drooling all over the couch cushions.”

Cassian huffed a laugh as he came up behind her. “You don’t have to do that. I was planning on cleaning it.”

“No big deal,” she said, placing it in the dishwasher. “I’m pretty awake, thought I’d take care of a few things anyway.”

Cassian nodded as he leaned back against the island. “So…”

Nesta turned and crossed her arms as she leaned back against the counter. “So.”

“Did you have fun with Doctor Wonderful?” Cassian asked.

“I did,” she said, leaving it at that.

He waited for a moment, but when it was clear that that was all she was going to give him, he asked, “Yet you’re home before midnight and are wide awake enough to clean up after me and the baby?”

Nesta knew what he was asking, what he was insinuating, without voicing the words.

Why didn’t you go home with him?

“It would seem so,” she replied, a hand reaching up okay with the charm dangling from her necklace.

Cassian’s eyes tracked each motion as the charm zipped back and forth along the chain. His tongue darted out, wetting his bottom lip and he nodded. “Well, I’m glad you had a good time.”

She wasn’t sure if she was waiting for him to say something else, but when he abruptly turned and headed for the stairs, she blurted, “How was your night?”

Pausing, Cassian turned back to look at her. He laughed quietly, and said, “My night doesn’t matter, Nes. Just as long as you had fun. Goodnight.”

He didn’t give her a second to reply as he turned the corner and she heard his footsteps thumping up the stairs. A moment later, his door closed.

Nesta spent far too long thinking about his words after he left.

Just as long as you had fun.

Why did such kind, simple words bother her so much?

[watermelonlipstick]

Dreams, Chapter 17

If you haven’t read this series before, you might want to start on Chapter 1, or check out the Dreams Masterlist! Here’s the series description:

When Dean dies for good leaving Sam and his girlfriend (the reader) behind, they must figure out how to carry on without him. Alone, reeling, and unsure what to do next, trying to honor Dean’s memory and follow their hearts gets even more complicated when their nightmares become dreams that feel a little too real.

Title: Dreams, Chapter 17

Pairing: (past) Dean Winchester x Reader, (eventual) Sam Winchester x Reader

Word Count: 2203

Summary: Milwaukee’s finest African dream root gets put to the test.

Warnings: FLUFF, swearing; it’s so nice to finally take angst out of these warnings

           You’re walking up the stairs from the bar basement with a six pack in your hand—it’s a raspberry beer from a microbrewery you’ve only had once in Pennsylvania, years ago. There’s no way you’d be able to stock it in northern Wisconsin, and ironically that makes you realize you’re in a dream faster than hearing Sam and Dean talking at the bar top.

           “Look who decided to show up!” Dean smiles, ready affection spreading over his face like warm butter. He’s sitting on a stool like a patron, a few fingers of scotch in a glass in front of him where Sam stands behind the bar. You can feel yourself beaming as you cross over to them, setting the cold six pack out between you. It feels natural to slip into the space under Sam’s arm like you do so often here serving customers together but you stop short of it, instead grabbing one of the bottles and pivoting so it looks like you were trying to grab the bottle opener out of his back pocket all along. He raises his elbow to give you better access, letting you slip it back into the denim without touching him.

           When you look up, Dean still has those gooey caramel eyes trained on you. “You look good, kid. What’re you drinking?”

           “What’re you drinking, that’s all you have to ask?” you giggle, hopping up to sit on the bar. “No ‘how are you both here, what’s going on?’ none of that?” For your part you’re practically exploding with gratitude that Sam’s long shot worked.

           “We’ve been waiting on you for a minute, Jolly Green Giant over here gave me the scoop. So what’re you drinking?”

           You hand the bottle you’ve opened to Sam and grab another. “It’s a raspberry lambic from Pennsylvania. From what I remember, it might’ve been my favorite beer ever.”

           Dean raises a disbelieving eyebrow. “Well, come toast me with that Juicy Juice.” You and Sam both touch the lips of your bottles to his glass, and the smile on Sam’s face is as smooth and effortless as chiffon floating off a tropical cabana. “I got my brother, my girl, my car, and a few fingers of single-malt, this is perfect. To Sammy’s big ole brain and the beauty of dream root.” Something about that rings a bell in an even deeper part of your mind and you don’t take a sip right away until a vision of Dean flashes, holding two plastic trays piled high with burgers and fries. Dean winks as he finishes his glass. “Did you two get any better at pool since I’ve been gone?”

           Playing pool with Sam and Dean in a bar—in your bar, with the dent in the paneling behind Dean where the table is a little too close to the wall—is as comfortable as if you’d never stopped, that there isn’t this giant hole not being acknowledged. Sam ribs Dean when he makes a shot his big brother missed and blocks fast when Dean tries to jab him in the ribs with a pool cue in retaliation, smiling through the horse play. You wipe a stealthy tear out of the corner of your eye and take another sip of lambic; you can’t think of anything more beautiful than watching the Winchesters goof off like this, are already starting to miss it as it happens in front of you, and then you feel stupid and wasteful for being so prematurely nostalgic that you can’t enjoy it. When you look back up having collected yourself, Sam floats a delicate hand to your back. “You okay?”

           “Yeah, sorry, just all kind of got to me for a second.”

           His eyebrows twist in concern and he looks over to Dean, exchanging a look you can’t quite read and even that you’ve missed so much you have to hold your breath for a moment to keep it together. “Let’s, uh, let’s get out of here,” Sam suggests, laying his cue down on the felted table.

           Dean nods almost imperceptibly before grinning wide. “Yeah, why don’t you knuckleheads show me the rest of this town?”

           Sitting in the backseat of the Impala is just right for the mile or two it takes to get ‘downtown’—as far as those 7 businesses on a main street rural enough not to have curbs can be called a downtown—and when Dean opens the back door it’s with an outstretched hand for you to get out into the parking lot of the hardware store. “It’s not really going to be the same without all the people,” you offer, taking his callused fingers in yours and standing up.

           “Babe, you have people in your dreams all the time.”

           “Yeah, but not like real people, not like you or Sam.”

           “You haven’t explained all this stuff to her yet?” Sam asks, incredulous over the top of the Impala as he walks around to you and Dean.

           “We’ve been, uh, busy,” Dean says lasciviously, waggling his eyebrows and not reacting when you shove him in the chest.

           “Dude, gross.” Sam’s little brother reflexes show themselves to be intact once again.

           “That’s not what your girlfriend said last night.” It almost makes you panic with surprise, that blatant acknowledgement of the situation, but neither Dean nor Sam seem to pay it too much mind, already moving on to the next thought. You get the sense—as you always did—that they’re still able to communicate without speaking, but who knows? Their time together, Sam’s dreams, even the time that it took you to find them in this dream, is theirs. If they’re comfortable joking then maybe you should be also; you’re the one who gets to have your cake and eat it too. It conflicts with your current strategy of ignoring the deeper element to both your relationships, pretending like the present predicament is no different than before you started dating Dean, platonic and jocular all around. In any case you’ll be damned if you ruin the unbelievable joy of this moment by harping on awkwardness.

           Sam rolls his eyes at Dean and turns to you. “It’s about how well you know people. Someone you know really well, your mind will be able to project what they would or wouldn’t do in a given situation or context. If you only know them sort of tangentially it’ll be harder for your mind to guess, so you might start to get like, repeat phrases or whatever. Think animatronics.” You probably look as confused as you feel and you can see the cogs of Sam’s mind turning rapidly to try to find another way to explain. “Okay, so take Diane, right? You know her enough that she might show up in a dream, but you probably don’t really know her motivations or mannerisms really well, personal history outside of those pictures of her grandkids she’s always showing? In a dream she’d probably only be there for a while, to get you from one thought to another, so if we go in right now and talk to her for hours and hours, she’ll probably start repeating stuff: sentences, facts, whatever.”

           “Sounds a little Island of Misfit Toys to me,” you grimace, beginning to feel a little queasy.

           “More like Westworld,” Sam suggests, opening the door. “This is, uh, the hardware store? Not really sure what you’re wanting to see, Dean.”

           Dean is strolling down the center of the small shop, head ducking into each aisle like he’s looking for something specific but doesn’t know where it is. He picks up a package of Red Vines, opens it, and tears into one like a lion with a chunk of sinew before continuing his walk. There’s a degree of wonder in his eyes that you wouldn’t have expected; the hardware store is just like any other you’ve ever been in except smaller and with more of the bits and bobs that shops in little towns tend to have.

           “Sweetie, would you like me to ring those up for you?” The voice comes from up ahead, behind the cash register where Diane has appeared. It sounds entirely kind and helpful but you know she’s gently chastising Dean for opening the package without paying. Sam can hear it too and smiles conspiratorially at you before walking to catch up with his brother, grabbing the candy out of his hands and tossing it on the counter to get out his wallet.

           “I can get them.”

           “Oh, Sam, I didn’t see you there! Look at you, Johnny on the spot. How’ve you been, honey?” She’s ostensibly ringing him up but her eyes are roaming all over Sam’s body hungrily, enough to make him blush.

           “Uh, fine. Just hanging around, you know.”

           Dean sidles up next to Sam and shoots out a hand to Diane. “I’m Dean, Sam’s brother.”

           “Pleasure to meet you, Dean. Diane,” she answers, her handshake as warm and no-nonsense as she is, but she only takes her eyes off Sam for half a second to address him. It should be your first hint that something’s up when Dean seems smug at the almost-diss rather than annoyed. Sam finishes the transaction and presses the licorice flat into Dean’s chest as he turns back toward the two of you and the exit. You have to hustle a little to keep up with his long strides.

           “Dude, come on, that’s hardly fair,” he says, low and trying for serious but there’s some playfulness in his tone.

           “I just wanted to see what she was thinking,” he chuckles around a bite of licorice, following Sam down the road to one of the burger joints. “Lucky you.”

           “Diane? Why do you care about the cashier at the hardware store?” you ask.

           “Kid, I want to know everything about your lives. Hardware stores included.”

           Sam rolls his eyes at his brother again and smiles, annoyed and maybe a touch shy. “You, uh, you don’t know Diane well enough to recreate her in your mind, but you know that she, uh, she knows me, right? So the way she acts toward me in your dream is the way you think people must act toward me in real life.”

           You’re getting tired of feeling confused and out of the loop. Dean interjects, “If your projection of Gramma Goodwrench has the hots for Sammy, then you must think chicks are falling all over him.”

           The heat rising in your cheeks makes you sheepish for a second before you realize the futility of it. Yet again, if Sam and Dean are willing to treat this like something to be joked about you can let them lead the way. “Whatever, you guys are a pain in my ass. Are we eating or what?”

           You end up walking through town for a while, going into all the tiny nooks and crannies of the places you spend any amount of time in, decidedly trying to keep the boys from talking to anyone for too long. Dean takes it in like it’s fascinating, a 6 year old at Disney World for the first time, asking all kinds of questions and doing goofy things like trying out different stools, looking into every bathroom stall to really understand the full scope of it all. After a while he gets hungry but wants to go back to the cabin, so you grab groceries that would normally be impossible to find in the local grocery store—there’s a perk—and head home. Sam gives Dean directions to your house, which feels odd, like some kind of reverse deja vu.

           You have an idea. Tapping Sam’s shoulder and leaning forward to put your head between the boys’, you think maybe it’s not something you want to do, that you don’t want to share Sam and Dean together again. But if Dean wants to see your life, they’re the closest relationships you have. “Do you, um, do you think I know the Kaisers well enough that you’re not going to be able to Vulcan mind control me or whatever?”

           Sam looks over his shoulder back at you, curious and sweet as a gentle smile tugs at his lips. “Yeah, I bet you do. What’re you thinking?”

           “Maybe we could go to theirs for dinner? If it’s a—”

           He reads your mind. “They’ll have something, you’re right. Dean, what do you think?”

           “Guess who’s coming to dinner! It’s just past you guys?”

-

Continue to Dreams, Chapter 18

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[avengerscompound]

The Surrogate - Chapter 16

The Surrogate:  A Clintasha Fanfic

Masterlist PREVIOUS //

Buy me a ☕ Character Pairing:  Clint Barton x Natasha Romanoff x F!Reader

Word Count:  1714

Rating:  E

Warnings:  Pregnancy

Synopsis: A freak end of the world incident leads to meeting your two best friends, Clint Barton and Natasha Romanoff.  While your friendship with the two Avengers is anything but conventional, they are your all-time favorite people.  When you find out that Clint and Natasha want to start a family but have exhausted all their options, you realize your powerset might allow you to give them what they want.  Having your best friends’ baby might seem like a good idea on paper, but when you are as close as you, Clint, and Natasha are, will doing something so intimate mean feelings get a little mixed up?

Chapter 16

Natasha and Clint had both been attending birthing classes with you.  It made sense really, they both planned to be there and this was their baby you were growing, even if you had started to think with the word ‘our’ more now.  The classes were a little scary.  Having to watch birthing videos made you worry there would be some kind of complication.  It was one thing for your body to stretch to let out the little girl growing inside you, but if they had to do a cesarean then you were pretty sure she was going to get stuck.  There was no way your body would allow itself to go unhealed long enough to cut her out of you.

Still, even though the classes were a little stress-inducing, it was nice to see Clint and Natasha respond to them.  They each had their specialties and weaknesses and seeing them working together, it was easy to understand how they worked so well as a team.  While they both were fine watching the birthing videos, Clint watched on like it was a horror movie and he was waiting for the Xenomorph to punch its way out of the mother’s chest.  Natasha was much calmer about it, like seeing a baby passing out the birthing canal was just another standard day for her.  Clint was terrible at helping you with breathing exercises, he just couldn’t take them seriously and if you followed along you’d be prone to hyperventilating.  Whereas, Natasha was nothing if not calm and serious about them.  On the other hand, Natasha struggled to change a diaper on a doll, whereas Clint could do it blindfolded and with one hand tied behind his back.

The classes were just held by the doctor who would be delivering your baby at the compound and a couple of the nurses too.  Obstetrics wasn’t used a lot on-site, and while the doctor and one of the nurses were both experts, the rest of the staff were more versed at emergency patch-ups so they’d come along to brush up their knowledge before the big day.  It was good to not have to worry about people treating you strangely because Natasha and Clint were celebrities or because there were three of you.  Everyone at the compound was used to what the three of you had now.

As you left the class Clint was babbling about whether or not drugs would work for you for the pain.  “I don’t see why the drugs wouldn’t work.  I mean, my body would probably physically reject the needle if I got an epidural, but pethidine would be okay and they said they’d be me Nitrous Oxide if I want.”

“Can I use it?” Clint asked.

“No, you can’t, birdbrain,” Natasha teased.  “Go get your illegal drugs elsewhere.”

“You can just squeeze Nat’s hand extra tight,” Clint said.  “But not mine.  I need them for my job.”

Natasha laughed.  “And I don’t ever use my hands?”

“Not the way I do,” Clint argued.

You laughed and opened the door as you looked back at them.  “You guys are such…”

“Surprise!!”

The shout of the group of people currently in the apartment made you jump and you spun around to see the room filled with people to almost breaking point. The place was decorated with pink streamers and matching pearlescent balloons.  There was a banner along the wall that spelled out ‘Baby Shower’ in a gold script.  Pink pieces of card cut into circles hung from various points of the ceiling with the words ‘Baby Shower’ repeated again and again in the same font.  The dining table was laid out with fruit, finger sandwiches, dips, cheese, and crackers.  At the center of it all,  sitting on a raised cake stand was a round cake with pale pink frosting.  A banner made out of sugar paste flags spelled out ‘BABY GIRL’ around the side and a sugar paste stork stood on the top holding a pink bundle.

The coffee table had been moved to the side and was stacked high with gifts, all wrapped in some combination of pink, white, silver, and gold.

At the front of the group was Kate Bishop and Wanda Maximoff stood holding out glasses of champagne with what looked like red flowers blooming in the bottom of the glass.  “Happy baby shower, guys,” Kate said.

“You bad girls,” Natasha scolded, kissing each of them on the cheek and taking a glass.  “I thought we were doing this in the function room.”

“Yeah, but a surprise is better,” Kate said.  “Don’t you think?”

“I think you’re both lucky none of us were armed,” Clint said, taking a glass for himself.  “I was ready to kick some ass.”

“Why do you think we chose immediately after your birthing class to do this?”  Kate teased, handing a glass of champagne to Clint.  “We know Doctor Harding doesn’t let you take weapons with you.”

“Here this one is for you,” Wanda said, handing you a glass.  “Non-alcoholic sparkling grape juice.  I know it’s not that exciting, but at least you can participate.”

“It’s lovely, thank you, Wanda,” you said.  “What’s the flower at the bottom?”

“It’s a hibiscus,” she said.  “Kate and I were looking up ideas, and it seemed nice and fitted with the theme.”

“Is the theme pink?”  Natasha asked.

“I wanted to go purple,” Kate said.  “But Wanda wouldn’t let me.”

“Damn it, Wanda,” Clint joked.

“It’s not just your baby, Clint,” Wanda huffed.

“Oh, Wanda,” Natasha soothed.  “It’s lovely, you both did a great job.”

The three of you were practically dragged into the party and began to mingle.  Kate and Wanda had done a great job with the guest list.  All the Avengers were there, as were a lot of the other staff you, Clint, and Natasha were close to.  There were also family and friends from your old life pre-avengers, though they looked very overwhelmed by the whole experience.

Unfortunately, the sheer number of people at the party meant the apartment was over capacity.  There was barely any room to stand let alone sit.  As you mingled shoulder to shoulder with your friends, you started to long for a comfortable seat.

There was a tapping of glass and you turned around to see Tony standing on the arm of a chair.  “I think we all agree that surprising these three was a lot of fun, but this apartment is too small for this.  So how about they open gifts and we all move it to the function room?”

There was a cheer and you, Nat, and Clint were shuffled to the couch where you were made to take a seat and open gifts.

There were a lot of gifts.

It wasn't long before you started losing track of everything among the cute little onesies and tiny shoes, the three-tiered cakes made of diapers and bottles, stuffed toys, rattles, teethers, and little wooden pull-toys.  There were a few standouts.  Kate had gotten a little onesie with a purple chevron that looked like the exact copy of the t-shirt Clint practically lived in.  Carol brought an onesie that had I love my mommies and daddy on it with three big cartoon bunnies around a much smaller one.  Tony, Pepper, and Morgan bought a stuffed giraffe that was so big his horns brushed the roof.  Pepper made it clear it had nothing to do with her and all Tony and Morgan’s doing.

When all the gifts were unwrapped everyone started grabbing food and party games and carrying them over to the main building.  It was amusing seeing the huge flock of people moving through the halls carrying plastic babies and plates of sandwiches.

When the group arrived it spread out like fluid, expanding to fit the function rooms’ much larger space.  Food was laid out on the tables.  Games were set up.  People started helping themselves to drinks from the bar.

You grabbed yourself a drink and a selection of food and took a seat on the couch, putting your feet up.

“Is it wearing you out?”  Steve Rogers asked, coming to sit beside you.

“Yeah, I’m always starting to wane by now, she’s really active in there,” you explained.  “And with the birthing class as well.”

“Is she kicking now?  Can I feel?”  Steve asked.

“Sure,” you said, taking his hand and pressing it where she was currently kicking.  It took a moment, but she soon shoved against his hand with what felt like all her might.

“Wow, she’s a strong one,” Steve said with a smile.

You chuckled. “Well look at who her parents are,” you agreed.  “She’s going to be a fighter.”

“I guess she is,” Steve smiled.  “It was very selfless of you to offer to do this for them.  Especially given you must have had feelings for them when you did.”

“Well, the sparks, I guess,” you confirmed.  “They were my best friends - are my best friends.  This was their only chance to have kids, and you of all people should know what it feels like when there’s a good that can be done and it’s in your power to do it.”

Steve smiled affectionately at you.  “I guess I do.”

“It’s moot now anyway, we’re all in it together,” you said.

“How do you feel about that?”  Steve asked.

You smiled and nodded.  “It’s a little scary.  Didn’t exactly plan to be a parent.  But I’m excited.”

“Well, good,” Steve said.  “It’s not really conventional, and I’m not sure I totally get it, but I understand love, and Nat and Clint were never conventional.  I think the three of you have got this.”

“Thanks, Steve,” you said.  “That’s always good to hear.”

“Attention everyone!” Kate called out, over the P.A.  “I think it’s time to play some games, and I don’t know about you, but I’d like to see which of the three future parents can change a diaper the quickest.  So get up here you three.  Anyone else, if you’d like to challenge them, we have plenty of dolls and diapers, and there’s a prize.”

Steve chuckled.  “Sounds like you’re up.”

You laughed and shook your head as you pulled yourself to your feet.  Today was going to be a long and very strange day.

// NEXT

[wtf-yoongi]

Stage lights. ‹‹part II of III››

pairing | jungkook x reader

summary | you visit jungkook on tour for the first time

genre/warnings | high levels of fluff + relatively new relationship + warning: features jk being extremely tired in between sets + but it’s ok because you look after him afterwards and now my heart is clenching 

words | about 7k total (part II is 2,357)

✨ read part I here ✨

note | kinda belongs in the same universe as this one, but can be read separately. i got carried away and wrote this huge thing, so i decided to separate it into three parts lol do i even have a life

A little bit over half an hour goes by and you’re back in the organized mess room, as you like to call it. If anything, things are even more chaotic now as showtime is just around the corner, staff members running everywhere while Jimin and Taehyung seem to be quite relaxed, warming up their voices with a little game they play. Soon enough, Hoseok joins with the biggest of grins.

It’s surreal. As you’re stuck in your little corner of the room, sitting next to Jungkook’s own mess, you can’t feel anything but astonishment. Yes, it all looks like utter chaos, but everyone seems so focused on their jobs – on getting everything done perfectly and on time –, you can’t help but feel impressed and a little bit uncomfortable. It all looks so much like a well-oiled machine you’re scared to disturb it even in the slightest.

Jungkook notices you’re quiet for a while, arms close to your body in what can only be a very uncomfortable position. The truth is you’re just trying to look as small as possible so you don’t feel like an intruder or like you’re bothering someone else’s job. The less space you’re occupying, the smaller the chance of getting in the way, right?

“Hey,” he calls, turning his eyes in your direction as he’s trying not to move his head. He’s almost done with his hair now, final touches before he can finally stand up to warm up as well. Jungkook extends his hand for you. “Are you ok?”

You nod and smile back at him, taking his hand to play with his long fingers. “Are you?”

“Yeah, I’m good.”

“Don’t you get nervous before going on stage?”

“Usually, no. Not anymore. Unless it’s something very special,” Jungkook shakes his head slightly. Suddenly, he’s smirking. “You’re here today and this is your first BTS show, I think it qualifies as special.”

“Don’t be nervous. You’re going to be great, I know it. You all are.”

Just as you finish your sentence, the hair stylist behind Jungkook taps his shoulder and says something, taking a step back to put the hot tool she was using away and moving back with a bottle of hairspray instead. He then holds up a finger, letting go of your hands and closing his eyes so she can lay a heavy coat of the product on his hair.

When she’s finished, he opens his eyes again and you can’t help but laugh at his actions. 

“You’re such a baby. I can’t believe your hair stylist has to warn you before applying hairspray,” you say in between laughs. Jungkook rolls his eyes slightly, but plays along, laughing as well. You could be wrong, but there was a smile on the hair stylist’s face as well and you ask yourself if she understood your words and thinks the same.

Just as you finish your sentence, a grave voice invades the room. You can’t understand what it’s saying, but as people start moving you know the person came in to tell them it’s almost showtime. Jungkook stands up quickly, turning around only to turn back to you again.

“Almost forgot, give me your phone,” he asks with his palm facing up while he picks up his own from the table in front of you. He takes your device and starts taping on the screen while looking at his. “This is Hae’s number, she’s supposed to babysit you while we’re on stage,” he says and smirks, eyeing you from behind his long hair. “She’s probably running somewhere now, but text her if she’s not here in, like, 15 minutes or so, ok?”

Jungkook hands back your phone and you look down to find a new contact added. You chuckle.

“Diplomatic Hae? Seriously?”

Jungkook has the slyest of smiles plastered on his face.

“I have to go now,” he says in an apologetic tone. When you look around, the room is significantly less crowded. “Text Hae if you need anything, ok?”

It is quick, but Jungkook leaves a peck on you right cheek before your brain can even process what he’s doing. He takes a step towards the door, but changes his mind, turning in your direction yet again.

“Fuck it,” he whispers and you’re the only one close enough to listen. He then holds your face in between his hands and kisses you firmly. “Thank you for being here. It means a lot.”

You blink twice, three times, before managing to find your voice again – however weak it is. “Good luck.”

The next moment, Jungkook is not in the room anymore. When you look around, only a few people are left and they all seem to be working on making things look less chaotic somehow, putting some stuff away in their designated boxes or throwing bottles and paper cups into plastic bags. Even if no one’s really paying attention, you can’t help but feel your ears burn and you hope to God you’re not as red as it feels like you are.

You take a deep breath and sit back on your chair, checking the time on your phone. You don’t think even three minutes of scrolling through social media pass before Hae’s boots are in front of you and, when you look up, she’s not wearing the orange jacket anymore, opting for a fashionable gray sweater instead.

“Hello again,” she greets with a much warmer smile this time. “Jungkook said you like macchiatos, so I ordered this for you. No sugar.”

Hae finally shows the hand that was hiding behind her back, a medium-sized cup of hot coffee appearing right below your nose. You smile at her and take the warm drink.

“Thank you. You didn’t have to do that,” you say quietly, taking a small sip. “I’m sorry that you have to look after me today, I imagine you already have a lot on your plate.”

“Oh, don’t worry about it.” Hae waves her hand in front of her face, looking much more laid back now and you wonder if Jungkook mentioned something to her. She sits on his chair and exhales as if this is the first time today she has a moment for herself. “It’s good to have you here. A different face, different accent. It’s my pleasure to show you around.”

The last staff member leaves and now the two of you are left alone. Silence fills the room for the first time and you feel the warmth spread through your body as you drink.

“So… You have two options today,” she starts out of nowhere, eyes sharp again as if ten seconds of not working were enough of a break for her. “You’ll have to watch the show from the side of the stage anyway, but you can choose between stage level or ground level.”

“What would you recommend?”

A few minutes later, you have your black cap on top of your head again, following Hae through the dimly lit area below the stage. It looks, once again, as chaotic as ever, people with tiny flashlights running around to make sure everything is good to go before the stage lights up. You actually have to make an effort to follow Hae around and not trip on your own feet, as you’re nowhere near as used to this environment as she is. After a little while, you can finally see where the structure ends and the screams get even louder somehow. 

“How does this view look to you?” She asks, pointing in the direction of the stage. 

When the first song starts, you really have no words. There’s something truly magical about it all – the performance, the lights, the stage, the fans – that you can’t quite explain or put into words. For the most part, the first few songs leave you with your mouth hanging open and, when you look to your side, Hae’s smiling and laughing at your reaction. Just as she looks back to the stage, there’s something in her eyes, a sense of achievement and happiness – and you know she’s absolutely proud of her job and how it helps in bringing all of that to life.

∆

“I’ll have to take you backstage,” Hae speaks close to your ear so you can listen. “Jungkook has asked me to bring you back before his solo stage. Is that ok?”

Instead of responding, you simply nod and raise your thumbs up. Hae has a tight smile on her lips and you’re back to following her around the place, careful not to lose sight of her. Soon after, you’re below the stage structure again, but she’s leading you to an area you didn’t cross before. You can still hear the muffled sound of music playing in the background, but at least you can understand her words properly when she speaks again.

“If you need me, I’m going to be right there,” she points to a corner where the line of chairs to your right end. “They’re all going to be here in a couple of minutes. It gets kind of crazy and I don’t want to get in the way.”

“What about me?” You ask with a raised eyebrow. “Am I not going to get in the way?”

“Honestly, I don’t know.” Hae offers an apologetic smile. “Just stay here. This is Jungkook’s area and he’s going to be here with his staff soon.”

The next few moments, after Hae leaves you to get out of the way, you kind of understand what she means. The area around you starts getting crowded, people hurriedly taking their positions with an assortment of objects in their hands as if they’re preparing for war. You press yourself closer to the metal part holding the structure together, trying to make yourself appear smaller. 

The song stops and you feel the tension build up. There are a few seconds of nothing but screams before another melody starts playing to fill in the gap between one performance and another and you guess there are only a couple of minutes before someone – you honestly don’t know who – takes the stage again. 

And then, it comes like a hurricane. 

The first person you see is Yoongi, running towards the end of the line of chairs, and Namjoon follows soon after. Each of the men must have four or more people around them, forming some sort of bubble. Someone’s offering a drink, another one patting the sweat dry. As soon as Namjoon sits, right next to Jungkook’s space, there’s someone else blow drying his hair and yet another with an ice pack pressed to his neck.

You don’t really have any time to process this, as member after member comes through and their own individual teams start to work around them, making the space feel even more crowded. Suddenly, Hae’s it gets kind of crazy sounds like a complete understatement.

The last to show up are Jimin and Jungkook and you swear you have never seen two people look more exhausted in your whole life. Only about half of the set has passed and you start to wonder how can they even finish it by the way they look right now.

When Jungkook catches a glimpse of you, however, he displays a weak but sweet smile on his lips. It’s hard to examine his face given there are many people around him blocking the view, but what you’re able to see leaves you wanting to bite hard on your lower lip. He looks completely spent, hands on his hips as he’s breathing heavily. Someone yanks his in-ear monitor and headset, making him disconnect his hands from his middle by dragging his jacket off of his shoulders. Jungkook doesn’t do anything, he just stands there looking directly at you, letting his team do what they are set to do without any reaction.

When he finally sits down before you, you don’t think he has enough air in his lungs to say anything yet – and he, in fact, doesn’t. The hair stylist you saw earlier is blow-drying his hair with quick hand movements while a makeup artist is patting his face dry for a second time. He takes your hand and you hold it tightly, wishing you could do something, help in any way, but you can’t see how – and it breaks you inside.

If you had a timer you’d see the staff takes two minutes very seriously. You only disconnect your eyes from Jungkook when you notice people moving back to where they all came from just moments before. The first to move again is Yoongi, in completely different attire and absolutely put together somehow, accepting the microphone someone’s offering him while walking down the corridor into the darkness.

As soon as the song shifts and you hear loud cheering again, things seem to settle down a little – almost as if the mission was to get just one, one single member out as fast as possible. All around you, people still work quickly and focused, but a little bit more relieved now the most critical mission was a success.

“Please don’t look so scared,” Jungkook says with an affectionate voice and you look back at him with a startled expression. The makeup artist is gone now and the only person left is the hair stylist, who’s fixing his curls. “I’m ok, we’re all ok,” he assures you.

“Are you, though? Is this your ok?” You ask just loud enough for him as you’re not sure you want Namjoon to overhear this conversation.

Jungkook squeezes your hand. “I know that this is difficult to understand sometimes, but it is our ok. This is our normal,” he says just as someone comes back with a bottle of a drink you can’t recognize. He takes it and sips on the straw. “I’m actually glad that it is like this. It means we’ve made it.”

You look at him doubtfully. “I just…”

“I know what you’re thinking, I worry about that too. But we’re ok, we’re healthy and we do our best to stay that way, ok?”

You nod and hope to God it really does stay that way.

🖤 read part III here 🖤

Read more ›› masterlist

[builder051]

Let's get lit

Nat on fire

____________

At the end of the day, Nat goes to put her folded uniform in her locker and retrieve her purse and coat. She's just opened the slatted metal door in front of her when a shadow appears behind her back, and she practically jumps out of her skin. She doesn't have a weapon on her at the moment, so she drops the pile of fabric and leather and spins on her heel to prepare to melee.

"Whoa, hey." Steve puts up his hands and takes a step back. "It's just me."

The just is a little much. SHIELD went liberally modern about 18 months ago and did away with men's and women's separate facilities. Now the locker rooms are shared, and every toilet and shower has a full European style floor-to-ceiling door. Clint likes it; he can locker beside her, talk her ear off, and elbow her in the face as he puts on deodorant. Maria likes it too, but for different reasons. Nat's feelings are generally ambiguous. She likes team togetherness. Hates making out in shower stalls. And definitely dislikes being snuck up on when her bag, and therefore her weapon, is still locked up.

"Hey," Nat forces out, dropping her raised fists and turning, trying to remember where she was in the locker's combination code. She can't recall, so she spins it once and starts over. "What do you want?"

It's probably overly gruff, but Nat wants to go home. Well, that's not true. Her tiny, grungy apartment does nothing for her, but there is vodka in the fridge. She'd prefer heroin, but it's June, and the "random" biannual staff physical and drug test is coming up. Nat's worked here long enough to expect it. Come to think of it, she should probably buy a box of doughnuts and start drinking the recommended amount of water every day, just to be sure she weighs enough to be deemed "healthy" for her age and height.

"Well, I," Steve falters. "You're the last one here. I just wanted to be sure you felt comfortable alone in the parking garage."

Nat walks alone into the parking garage practically every day. She squints at Steve. Waits a moment. He doesn't budge, but Nat still says, "Gotta get a better story than that, Rogers. If you want to get me alone--"

"No, no, that's not what I meant." Steve's face goes red.

It wouldn't be the first time she fucked a coworker. She and Clint are over and done with. She and Maria... probably ought to be.

"Then throw it down, Steve." Nat pulls her keys from her bag. "I'm..." She shrugs and flattens her mouth into a hard line.

"Honestly?" Steve knits his brows a little, looking worried that he'll offend her, and maybe worried about something else, too.

"Sure." Nat starts for the door, Steve on her heels.

"I, uh..." Steve starts. "You don't seem like you should be alone right now."

"Huh?" Nat blinks at him. Alone? That's exactly where she ought to be. Drinking. Maybe eating. Maybe barfing it all back up. Testing which instincts are too strong for her to control.

"You're not feeling good," Steve says in a rush. "Are you?"

"We just had a mission. I'm tired." Nat feels her forehead crease; she can't wipe off her look of confusion.

"Like, I mean..." Steve seems to be struggling for words. Finally he sighs and says, "I've read the pamphlets, and they do a really bad job of describing what it looks like, or what to do, or how to help, but I want you to...be ok."

Nat gapes at him for a second. Then she can't keep from blurting out, "Oh my god." She almost laughs, but manages to keep it in. "You think I'm going to kill myself or something? Because you took the equivalent of a junior high health class?"

"It was taught by a SHIELD agent," Steve informs her, as if this makes it more legitimate. "And they talked about self-harm, and drug abuse, and--"

"Ok, ok," Nat cuts him off. They've reached the end of the hall, and the parking garage stretches on the other side of the storm door. "You've... refreshed my education." She forces a smile. "Thank you."

"Nat, I." Steve shakes his head. "I didn't want to make you feel bad. Let me buy you dinner. Let me... make tonight better, if you've been having a hard time."

"Nope." Nat pushes open the heavy door. She beeps her keys, and the lights on her black sedan flash to welcome her.

"Hey, I'm sorry--"

"I'll see you tomorrow."

Nat gets into her car, turns the key, and slowly backs out of her spot. Steve still stands there, watching her, looking concerned and maybe a little sad himself.

Nat shakes her head. Not because it was a close call, which it was, but because she needs the cravings to go away long enough to work through satisfying them. The last few moments of talking to Steve, when he'd mentioned drug abuse, her veins had practically ached with the desire for the needle. Her throat stings for alcohol, and what's in the fridge will never be enough.

Nat exits the garage and drives down one of the spokes that takes her out of the wheel of DC proper and into a smaller neighborhood. It's not exactly near her apartment, but that's not the point. She pulls up to the curb, gets out her phone, and scrolls through her contacts until she finds the one she's looking for.

Nat places the phone to her ear, then gets out and hikes through the overgrown landscaping to the corner mart half a block down. They won't sell the good stuff, but they will sell the stuff. Beer, at least.

The person on the other end of Nat's phone call picks up, but doesn't speak. Not that she expects him to. Their relationship is not one of cordiality. "A number one, please," Nat murmurs, speaking quickly and quietly, even though the message is bland and fairly indecipherable. "No sides."

"Pickup or delivery?"

"Pickup." Nat always picks up. She can't imagine the fallout of having someone seen popping in and out of her apartment, and then having to explain their relationship to whomever has her under surveillance. Because god knows someone does.

The voice on the other end of the line provides the address. Nat memorizes it, says "thanks," and hangs up. Then she puts the street name and house number into her GPS app and proceeds into the store to pick out a bottle of low-quality whiskey. She pays cash, then returns to the car, clutching the paper bag tightly in her hand.

Nat winds through the streets, taking a roundabout route to throw off anyone who might be tailing her. She takes specific care to look for Steve's bike, but that thing would be impossible to disguise. It takes her almost an hour of using her good judgement and best behavior not to tear open the paper bag in the passenger seat and start gulping, egging on the fuzzy lightness she knows she'll get if she carries on.

The house the GPS leads her to looks deserted. The lights are off, but once Nat's headlights bounce off the front porch, she sees a white plastic bag wrapped around the flat cube shape of a standard takeout box. Nat doesn't even turn off the car. She just opens the door and hurries up to grab the loot.

Nat focuses on getting the fuck out of there, so she doesn't rip open the bag and pop the lid on the container until she's at the red light at the end of the street. Inside is a baggie of white powder, a handful of clean needles, and a handwritten bill for what she owes.

Nat will wire the money later, after she's had her night of blissful high. She'll have to do a lot of things later, like tip off Maria that she should probably use last time's blood sample, which they both know is clean, in place of whatever they pull this time. She'll owe there, too, but Nat knows how to pay.

Then there's Steve. Nat doesn't know what to do about him. She'll sure as fuck have a hangover tomorrow, so she hopes they don't get called for a mission. Nat supposes the best she can hope for is to have her fun tonight, then give it a few days to slowly come back to her regular, normal, unquestionable self.

Whatever that means.

[hotpinkhoshi]

kiss it better | prologue

pairing: mark tuan x reader

genre: angst, smut, brother’s best friend au (sort of)

warnings: age gap (nine years), cursing, explicit sex, slow burn

summary: you were off limits for more reasons than mark could count. but everything changed for him the day you walked into his tattoo shop with those big innocent eyes and a laugh like his favorite song. he couldn’t. he wouldn’t. and yet…

✩ index here ✩

Your favorite thing about living on your own, hands down, was having the freedom to eat ice cream whenever you pleased. 

It had been a hot summer in Seoul, hot enough that you couldn’t remember the last time you’d gone out without being painfully aware of the sweat on the back of your neck and the space where your thighs touched each other.

Today was hotter than yesterday had been. Sticky and humid, like it needed to rain. You’d gone out with your new friend, Yiren, to shop for some new records. Well, she shopped for records—you bought a cheap ice cream bar from the convenience store around the corner. 

While waiting outside of the record store for Yiren to check out, you leaned against the side of a bench while taking in the area. 

You’d moved to Seoul at the start of the summer, and you still felt like a little fish in a big pond. The big, wide world awaited you, and you were desperate to see every inch of it. 

A couple giggled outside of a bakery next to you. You tried not to stare as the boy, tall and gangly, wrapped his arms around the female and pulled her into his chest. You wondered how it felt to be held like that. 

Across the road, a stark contrast to the pale pink and yellow scheme of the bakery, sat a tattoo shop. Paradise Tattoo, the sign read, in neon blue. A dark haired man, maybe your age or a little older, sat on the steps drinking an iced coffee while bobbing his head to whatever was playing on his earbuds. Even from afar you could make out the sleeve on his left arm, made up of swirls and lines of black ink. 

He lifted his head from his phone and caught your eye. You blinked and quickly looked away, gasping when your sudden movement caused the top scoop of your ice cream to topple onto the street.

“Noooooo,” you whined, a full pout forming on your lips. You’d barely even gotten to take a full bite. 

“Sucks,” you heard Yiren say from behind you. She had a plastic bag of records, so full you were honestly surprised she could carry it. 

You sighed, tossing the empty cone into the trash can next to you. “And I thought today would be a good day.”

Yiren laughed as she bounded up to you, linking her free arm through yours. “It is a good day. You got paid today, remember? What do you wanna do with all your cash?”

You snorted, fully prepared to make a comment about how you needed to save for a security deposit on an apartment. Your eyes drifted back to the tattoo shop, but the man sitting there was gone. You chewed your lip and glanced back at Yiren, nodding towards the shop. 

“I’ve never been in a tattoo shop before. Want to check it out?”

Yiren, as usual whenever you expressed one more thing you’d never done before, gasped dramatically. “You what?! I swear, Y/N, you should be in a museum. You’re so cute.”

When she moved to pinch your cheeks, you swatted her hands away. “Gah. Let’s just go.” 

You dragged her across the street and up the few steps that lead to the front door of the shop. You heard a ding once the door was halfway opened, signaling your entrance. The cool air of the shop comforted you immediately, offering you some relief from the sticky air outside.

It sort of looked how you’d imagined it, but brighter. There was hard metal blasting on the speakers above you, with framed drawings of all sorts of tattoo styles adorning the deep red walls. 

Doubling as a desk, on your left side was a glass jewelry display case with different earrings and bars that were used for piercings in various body parts. Sitting behind this desk was a girl with bright green hair and thick framed glasses. 

“Hi! Do you have an appointment?” she asked cheerily, her tone the complete opposite of what you’d expected. You’d never seen anyone with a neck tattoo, but she had hers proudly displayed—a snake traveling from her chest and around towards the nape of her neck, the head appearing on the other side. 

“Um,” you said, glancing towards Yiren. 

She jumped in. “No. Do you talk walk ins? My friend was thinking about getting a tattoo.” 

“I-” you started, your eyes widening at Yiren. “I haven’t decided yet.”

The girl behind the counter nodded and turned around in her swivel chair, reaching for a big black binder that was sitting upon a shelf behind her. 

“Here, we have some photos and drawings of previous tattoos our artists have done. We have five artists. Youngjae, Jackson, Mark, and Yugyeom. And me, but I mostly do piercings. Do you have any idea what you’re looking for?” 

You flipped open the binder, greeted on the first page by a portrait of a very voluptuous, very naked woman that had been tattooed onto someone’s leg. It took a conscious effort not to show your shock, simply because you didn’t need Yiren cooing at you again. 

“Well, I like…” you thought about it as you continued flipping the next few pages, until you came upon a drawing of a rose, a soft pink color that reminded you of the bakery across the street. There was a series of pages full of drawings of flowers, different types and shades of the rainbow. “Who did these? These are beautiful.” 

“Ah,” the girl nodded, leaning her chin upon her hand. “That would be Mark. He’s great at flowers, they’re sort of his specialty. Youngjae does beautiful portraits. Jackson’s shading is unbelievable. And Yugyeom is new, but his lines are incredible.” 

Yiren snickered next to you. “It must be great working with all these guys.” 

The girl raised her eyebrows, an amused smirk on her lips. “Please. They’re not exactly my type.”

Just as Yiren opened her mouth for a follow up question, a male voice called from the direction of the hallway to your left. 

“Dahyun, did you get any napkins from the coffee shop? Yugyeom spilled his shit all over-” 

Looking up, you saw a guy walking towards you. Perfectly styled hair, a chiseled jawline, and tattoos covering both of his very toned arms. He stopped in his tracks, then gave you an apologetic bow.

“Sorry, I didn’t know we had a customer.”

Dahyun rolled her eyes and grabbed for a stack of napkins next to her. “Here. And tell Yugyeom he’s on mop duty tonight.” 

“Yes, ma’am.” The guy saluted Dahyun, then turned on his heel and jogged back down the hallway to one of the rooms. 

“Anyway,” Dahyun continued. “We do take walk ins. It’s been slow today, honestly, so if you wanted to get a smaller piece we could probably make it work. Youngjae’s tattooing someone right now, but other than that, it’s wide open.”

You gulped. Now that it was real, you were feeling a bit panicked. But you were drawn to the image of the pale lilac flower on the page in front of you, as if it was calling to you. As silly as it sounded, just looking at it brought you a sense of calm. 

“Could I… could I get this?” you asked meekly. 

Dahyun turned her head to view the picture, then nodded her head. “Of course. Do you know where you want it?”

You looked at Yiren, a question in your eyes. It had to be somewhere you could hide it. Your parents strongly disapproved of tattoos. To be fair, they disapproved of every aspect of your life already, so how much worse could it get? Still, you wanted the option to cover it up if you needed to. 

“You could get it on your ribs, maybe?”

Dahyun inhaled sharply. “Ah, I wouldn’t recommend that. Hurts like a bitch. Shoulders and hips are pretty painless though, that’s where a lot of newbies get their first.” 

Worrying at your lower lip, you stared down at the flower once more, then up at Dahyun. “The back of my shoulder, would that be okay?” 

“It’s your party, princess. It shouldn’t hurt too much, and if you get it small enough it’ll be over before you know it.” 

Dahyun went ahead and printed out the sketch after you told her just how big you wanted it, and modified the color to a deeper purple. She went back to talk to the artist, Mark, then returned a few minutes later and told you to follow her back. 

“He’s ready for you. We’ll go over all the aftercare and fun stuff once it’s all done, okay?” she said as she led the two of you back to Mark’s room. You stuffed your shaking hands into the pockets of your shorts, not wanting him to see how nervous you were. 

Once you came to the threshold of the room, you first noticed all of the drawings on the walls. Not just flowers, but trees, portraits, still life sketches… all of it. Apparently flowers weren’t the only thing this guy could draw. 

Mark had his back to you, sifting through a box full of colored ink bottles. You realized without even seeing his face that this was the guy you’d seen on the steps of the shop earlier. Up close, you could see more of his sleeve. Right on the back of his arm was a large tattoo of a lion’s face, jaw wide open in a roar. 

“Sorry, go ahead and sit-” he started as he turned towards you, his jaw dropping once he made eye contact. “Y/N?”

It took you a long moment to realize where you knew him from, and it wasn’t just because you’d seen him across the road earlier. You hadn’t seen him in at least six years, but you knew him right away. How could you not have recognized him before? 

You’d practically grown up with him. He’d eaten countless dinners at your family table while your mom fawned over him and pinched his cheeks, asking why your older brother couldn’t be more like him. 

The last time you’d seen him was Taehyung’s going away party just before he left for his year-long backpacking experience in Europe. You’d only been sixteen at the time, but Mark was nine years older than you. 

Besides the sleeve of tattoos and the deep red hair he was sporting, he hadn’t changed much since then.

“Mark?”

full chapter one to be posted march 17th, 7pm est

[playinonaloop]

Chapter 2: I’ll give you war

Warnings through out the series: (mentions of) smut, violence, drugs, alcohol, guns, maffia stuff, ya know!

Story masterlist

As soon as he said that he left the room. Leaving you all to yourself as the sun began to set. Seeing as it was setting, it had to be around nine o’clock already. It did leave you wondering which day it already was. How long had you been knocked out? As hundreds of thoughts whirred through your head you heard the door open behind you.

“It’s been a long time since I’ve seen you” The voice that spoke to you made you shiver. It had been 19 years since you saw him. This time you didn’t try to turn around to take a look. You didn’t need to see him. Scratch that, you don’t want to see him. He got closer; his footsteps were much heavier than the last time you heard them.

“So, you’re not going to say anything?” He was now standing in front of you. Joe Ricciardo, looking at you directly. You tried to look away as he came down to your eyesight.

“You let your brother leave you behind, for you not to talk at all? To be too scared to look me in the eye” You now looked directly at him, hatred fueling your heart as you stared in his brown eyes. Joe inched close, now merely centimeters away from your face. You couldn’t read his gaze, so you resorted to being yourself; headbutting him and smiling afterwards.

“Ouch! Shit!” He stumbled backwards as he grabbed his nose. Blood was already running down his lips. You started laughing. Joe took a look at you while you cleared your throat.

“Daniel takes after his father, I see”

“And what do you mean by that?”

“That he fell for the same dumb trick, but you are even more stupid. Coming closer while I’m as silent as can be” Joe now started smiling too, realizing you didn’t change one bit. He sat down in front of you, about a meter away, as he held his nose to make the bleeding stop. You were now wondering what he was thinking about. Joe just sat there, looking at you. 

“What are you thinking about?” Your question pierced through the air making his eyes now focus on your eyes.

“How you haven’t changed at all. In all those years I haven’t seen you. God, how long has it been?”

“Nineteen years Joe, it has been that long since you… S-since you killed Rich”

He completely ignored the comment about Rich and jumped onto another question. It was as if he was afraid to talk about is. You could see his eyes twitch as he asked the question.

“So, you’re 28, now right? You were three years younger right? Can’t seem to remember”

“Yeah, 28 now”

Joe became silent, he looked at the floor. This made him look weak. If he was vulnerable, now was the time to try and pry information out of him or try and get yourself out of here.

“Joe?”

“Yes?”

“I’m really hungry and my throat is dry. It might be too much to ask but could you get me something to drink or eat? Please?” He looked at you which made you make yourself look as parched and hungry as you could. To be honest, you were starving and parched but you knew this was crucial for you getting out of here.

“Y-Yeah of course, you might be our hostage but that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t get food or water!” He got up at once and ran out of the room.

How was he so nice? Wasn’t he supposed to be the mean evil bastard that killed Rich and started the war?

You met a face with a big grin when you looked up to Joe. “Hiya darling, ready for another playdate?” He scooped you up in his arms and cuddled you softly. You giggled and nodded. Joey was cuddled up against his leg as your parents said their goodbyes to Grace and Joe. The two of you were going to spend the afternoon at the Ricciardo’s as your mum and dad had some important business meetings to attend. Joe took you and Joey into the spacious home they occupied. Michelle and Daniel came running at you and they immediately took off with Joey. Joe had just put you down, but since you were younger and thus smaller you weren’t as quick to follow them. Daniel was waiting for you at the top of the stairs, smiling down as you got on the stairs. “Thanks for waiting for me!” You said with a smile on your face. Daniel smiled back at you and said “Always” The two of you walked towards the playroom to join his sister and your brother. 

A few hours went by as you waited for him to come back. The sun had left the surface and the room had gone dark. You heard ticking of a clock somewhere in the room, probably on the back wall. The curtains weren’t closed so it gave you a wonderful view of the sky outside. It was clear out, so you could see the stars. Nobody had come in since Joe had visited you. It made you wonder, was he making a four-star dinner for you? Or was something else going on. Something that should concern you, something that could change everything for you. But you were so tired, and you guessed it was getting late. You couldn’t keep your eyes open any longer. 

“Wakey wakey, eggs and bakey!” You felt a big push at your back as you opened your eyes. It startled you awake, that was the least to say. The voice was recognizable everywhere. Michelle, Daniel’s sister.

“So, today, we’re going to have some fun!”

“And what is that Michelle?”

“Well, first you are going to eat and drink. It is surprising to see you’re still alive after 30 hours without water” 30 hours, that’s how long it has been since Joey left you behind. You licked your lips before you spoke.

“The human body can go without water for 48 hours. It’s not that surprising”

Michelle now walked to you, turning you around towards the door. She had a cup in her hand.

“Listen, if you even think about headbutting me like you did with dad and Danny, I swear to God I will kill you.” You let out a small giggle as she came closer.

“You always were smarter than he was, don’t worry you’re bringing me the things I need most at this moment. I won’t be stupid enough to do something now.” She smiled as she got down on one knee, bringing the cup up to your mouth. You started drinking quickly, getting as much fluid in as possible. Michelle took the cup away as she stood again to grab something else. She turned her back to you and you heard some plastic being ripped off. When she turned back, she had a sandwich in her hand. She got back on her knee and fed you small pieces of the bread. 

“Nice, huh. Finaly some food inside your stomach!”

“Yeah, but why are you being so nice?”

“Oh don’t worry hun, Like I said, we’re going to have a good evening!” She smiled as she took the sandwich away. The door in front of you opened and Grace came through the door. She hadn’t changed one bit in all those years. The sound of screeching wheels filled the room. 

“G’day hun! Time to make your presence worth while.” A sinister smile embellished her mouth. It was the same smile like Danny had two days ago. Michelle turned you back around, making you face the window again. There was a jangling of iron objects that sent a shiver down your spine.

“So, since you’re here and we need to get some information, we’re going to have a chat. How’s your dad?” Grace spoke as she sat down in front of you.

“My dad is fine, why?”

“Well, we’ve heard some news that your family is making some steps into the higher ranks of politics”

“Yeah, we are” This was not an unknown secret, your dad had been walking this road for about a year now.

“Then you can also tell me how he’s getting that money?”

“I will not” Grace was onto something bigger and you knew it was crucial to not tell them anything.

“I think you should tell us, y/n. It will be less painful that way” Michelle spoke as you felt a knife spin on your cheek. 

“Well, I think your family should tell the world that you’re all tide up in a drugs scandal. You know, the coke and meth stuff” You spoke as you wiggled on you chair.

This was the moment you knew you wouldn’t leave the room unharmed, which was no surprise. Instead of showing your fear you smiled at Grace. 

“You should know, there is no way you’re getting me to talk” As a statement you winked at her.

“Then we’re doing this the hard way”

The hard blow you received to your knees thundered into your head. A scream left your mouth as you dove in pain. Michelle turned the tray over as she checked for a dent in it. The knife she was carrying came closer after she dropped the tray. You noticed that your neck was now bare, so you quickly shot up. Grace had picked up more duck tape by now and Michelle grabbed your hair. "Of course we don't want to wake up the whole house." Now that the duck tape had been pulled over your mouth and Grace had taken over your hair, Michelle came terrifyingly close. She turned the knife in her hand and now rested it against your chest. One quick move further and your t-shirt was in half so you were now in your bra. "It's special that you attack in a nice bra, that's a shame. Who thought you would seduce?" She now put the knife just below your collarbone and let it slide superficially over your body. Blood was released, but it hardly hurt. This was probably due to the adrenaline rushing through your body. Michelle drew a few lines across your upper body like this. Then twisting the knife a little deeper in some places. "So tell me where does the money come from" You shook your head and looked at Michelle, a frown on your face. "Then we'll go on, Mom can I have the next part?" Grace handed Michelle a spray bottle. She shook it briefly and handed the knife back to her mother. Meanwhile, the pain slowly set in and with it a headache. Out of nowhere, Michelle sprayed the mysterious stuff on your upper body. It provided immediate pain that burned through to the rest of your body. "And now, tell us something?" With tears in your eyes you shook no again. This evoked the following methode of torture. This was also without success. Grace sighed, Michelle threw her things on the floor in frustration. "This is useless Michelle, forget it. We are going to clean up" And with this statement they started to clean up and left the room shortly afterwards. As soon as they left you slipped out of consciousness.

The bench made a soft whooshing sound while you were laying on top of it. Wind was pushing you in a steady rhythm as you turned a page of your book. To be honest it was a boring book, but since your English teacher had put it onto the list you read it. You weren’t the person to skip homework, or slack anything for that fact. 

“Hey ugly, wanna join us on the dirtbikes?” 

Joey screamed at you from the barn. You propped yourself up on one elbow as you yelled back at him. 

“I can’t, dad says I am too young!” 

Now Daniel emerged from the back of the shed with an extra helmet on his dirtbike. 

“Do you see your dad around?” 

Daniel asked as Joey reved his bike, the sound was hyping you up to say yes. 

“No, b-but I don’t want to get into trouble”. 

“Well, we aren’t going to tell him if you don’t tell him” 

Joey put on his helmet and got on the bike. 

“Now or never, y/n!” Daniel screamed, making you put down your book and getting up. You sprinted towards him, grabbing the helmet snd hopping on the back of the dirtbike. He looked at you as he put on his helmet and got on the bike and followed Joey. The sudden movement brought you out of balance which made you grab Daniel by the waist. You heard Daniel laugh as you scooted closer to make sure you didn’t fall off. Joey was driving so fast that Daniel almost couldn’t keep up. You lost Joey and Daniel decided to go off road through the woods. Next was a steep hill, which made Daniel go even faster. On top of the hill the two of you came to a stop. Daniel let you get off safely, you taking of your helmet as soon as your feet were planted on the ground. 

“Nice ride huh?” 

Daniel asked as he put his helmet on the bike. 

“Yeah, quite fast too” 

You replied softly as the view took away your breath. 

“How’s school y/n?” 

“It’s fine Danny, boring but fine” 

He chuckled: “You’re nine, how is it boring but fine?!” 

“Because it just is” 

You turned around and looked at him. He was standing next to the bike with a big grin on his face. Suddenly the sound of a bike was getting close, next Joey came upon the hill. 

“Y/n, we’ve got to go. Dad’s home” 

You weren’t able to see his face due to his helmet but his voice wasn’t normal. 

“But why? I know I’m not supposed to be on a bike but w-“ 

“Now y/n! We’ve got to go, family stuff is happening.” You put on your helmet and walked towards him. 

“You are following us back, right Danny?” 

You asked as you looked at him. 

“I think it’s better if you get home too Daniel, it’s safer that way” 

Joey spoke as he pulled you close. 

“But why, this is your bike Joey?” 

“Take it, we’re leaving” 

And with that Joey put you on the bike, got on and drove away.

Click here for chapter three!

[more-miserables]

A Knock At the Door

Hey y’all. It’s @cubeswhump . Don’t blame April for this terrible title.

So yeah. This is a collab with me, @cubeswhump . Second collab in this series. This is a collaborative thing that is 99% self indulgence but the collab was planned from the start and will make sense plot-wise, I actually was like “April I have an idea make a whump blog” and here we are.

Tag list: @albino-whumpee @liliability

Warning for institutionalized slavery, aftermath of abuse, descriptions of wounds and infections, medical stuff.

Time seemed to slow as Jamie went up to the door, but somehow she still moved much too fast.

"Oh! Andrew, right? David's kid?" Jamie talked much too casually, letting the broad-shouldered man come in. He was a few years older than herself, wearing a green knit sweater over plaid pajamas with his black hair in a lopsided bun like he'd just rolled out of bed.

"No, it's-"

"Oh yeah, you use some unusual name,  right? I remember the press getting mad and comparing you to that celebrity kid named after a fruit. Hold on, I'll get it."

He turned to Yates, smiling widely. It almost looked friendly. "Hi! I'm Andromeda. You can call me Andy if you prefer." 

"Oh, Andromeda! I was gonna guess Milky Way," Jamie snorted, and went ignored.

Yates automatically knelt down and pressed his head to the floor. “I shall wake my partner, sir, and then we can accompany you.”

Andromeda knelt down too. "Look, we're on the same level now. But that can't feel nice on your forehead, can it?" 

Yates glanced up at him, feeling like his brain just short-circuited. How was he meant to react to this? They’d never taught him what to do when someone superior goes down to your level. “Um… No?” It came out like a question. 

Andromeda pressed his forehead to the floor. "Hm. No, this doesn't feel too good. What do you think we should do instead?"

“Maybe you should stand up..? If that’s what you’d prefer, sir.” This was weird. Yates felt like he was flying blind. 

"Just me, or both of us?"

“Am I allowed to stand?”

"Well, do you want to?"

This was really stressful. What was the right answer?! “I don’t know,” Yates whispered, suddenly near tears. 

"It's okay, it's okay! How about we both stand up? Oh, I think I've made a bad first impression."

Yates stood obediently, blinking back the tears. “I’m sorry, sir. It’s been… difficult for the past few days.”

Andromeda stood too, just about towering over Yates, but that wasn't unusual. "That's okay, you're allowed to be upset. I'm sorry I made you upset. But how about we don't worry right now? I have the heater on in the car and we'll have your friend's hand looked over at the house, okay?

“Okay.” Yates dashed off to coax Ginger awake, glad to escape. Andromeda was weird and confusing; nobody ever asked Yates what he wanted. He didn’t know how to answer. 

Ginger was less polite when he staggered into the hall on Yates’s arm, not bothering to bow. He nodded to Jamie, then did a double take when he clocked her bare face, makeup scrubbed away. “Oh my God, your eyebrows are gone.”

Jamie rolled her eyes. "Oh, shut your gob. Like you lucked out in the eyebrow department, red." 

Ginger smiled a little. It was nice to have playful banter instead of hostile bullying. “Thanks for helping us,” he said, quieter now. “We owe you one.”

"Nah, no debts with me," she said, waving her hand dismissively. Andromeda hovered, watching Ginger as if he expected him to fall over. 

Ginger nodded at him, looking wary. “Hello.”

"Hello! I'm Andromeda."

Ginger just nodded again. He clung to Yates, partly protectively and partly because he really was struggling to stand. He was white as a ghost and shaking, but he tried to look fierce. 

"I have my car out front," Andromeda went on as he walked. "Would you both be all right going for the ride?"

“That’s why you’re here, isn’t it?” Ginger said. “To take us to a safe place.”

"Well, yes."

He hesitated for a second and looked at Jamie. “You’re sure this is that David’s son?”

"Yep," she said. "Adopted. Maybe fostered? I dunno."

“Okay. Thanks again.”

“Keep in touch,” Yates added. She gave a thumbs up. 

"Thank you for all your help, Jamie," Andromeda said as they walked out. 

The car in the formerly empty drive was a smaller one, pale blue and shimmering in the dim streetlight. The two runaways couldn't even guess the make,  or know if it was expensive or not. Andromeda opened the back door, and there was a blanket draped across the seat and more folded ones (knitted wool, soft fuzz, none if the scratchy material like in their bedroom at Stanley's or the thin sheets at the facility).

"Feel free to use the blankets, any of them, if you get cold."

There was another man in the passenger’s seat too; they could see a silhouette of smooth, dark hair and then big, curious eyes as the person turned to stare at them. Ginger pulled Yates close and cocooned them both in a blanket, shivering. Those bright eyes staring at them were eerie, though they didn’t show hostility. 

"Hi Harley! These are our new friends," Andromeda enthused as he got into the driver's seat. 

“Hi,” Harley said quietly, still staring. “Two ones. Like Xander and Jay?”

"A bit, but Jay wasn't a… he wasn't made to be a pet," Andromeda explained. "These two both were, but I think they're very good friends like Xander and Jay."

Ginger and Yates watched this new boy warily. He just smiled in a docile way, fiddling with a strand of his black hair. “Pair.”

"Mhm. They're friends like you and Crow too." 

“Is Crow a person or an animal?” Ginger muttered. 

“He people!” Harley giggled. His voice was lively, but slow and deliberate, like it took him longer to select and vocalise the right words. Andromeda smiled a bit, but when he went to adjust the rearview mirror he seemed to look at the two in the backseat for a split second.  

“I figured as much,” Ginger said. “I didn’t think you could buy real crows.” He didn’t care how Harley spoke. It was just nice to be smiled at for once. 

"Some people in our house picked their own names," Andromeda explained. "I think Crow likes the wild birds he sees out his window, though we do have some chickens too."

Ginger nodded like that made perfect sense. “Maybe I could be an animal name…”

"Maybe! No rush on it though. I think rest should be priority the next few days. Speaking of, this is a long drive. Do you want to sleep?" 

“You really should sleep,” Yates whispered to Ginger. “You’re poorly.”

“I’ve only just woken up. You’re the one who should sleep.”

Harley didn’t speak to them directly, but he very softly started singing lullabies, mixing up the words, sometimes jumbling several together, but the tunes were soothing. In the end Yates and Ginger both slept, and Harley smiled triumphantly. He hoped he’d been helpful. 

Andromeda laughed a snorting cackle that made him sound ten years younger. "Good job, Harley. 

****

The sun was shining bright. 

No one touched him, but Yates jumped like he'd been slapped awake. It was only Andromeda standing two feet away from the open car door going, "Hey guys, we're here."

Ginger was harder to rouse, and Yates had to shake him. His hair was plastered to his face with sweat where he’d leaned on Yates and he was very pale. Yates hoped he wasn’t going to vomit again. It wouldn’t be the best first impression. 

Andromeda was ready with an unopened water bottle, handing it to them. He started talking while Yates helped Ginger drink, wringing his hands and looking up toward the sky thoughtfully. 

"So um, we tend to give shelter to runaways that will need a bit more support. A lot of Romantics will fall under that category. So we have some Romantics staying here, but everyone is friendly and no one will bother you."

Yates bit his lip, glancing at Ginger nervously. Now Stanley was gone, Yates had shifted to taking orders from Ginger instead, though Ginger told him not to. Yates knew they'd been taught not to trust Romantics. He didn’t want to be outright rude to anybody, but they weren’t really supposed to speak to them either. 

Ginger shrugged indifferently. He was far too miserable to care about decorum and rules now. Yates mirrored the shrug, but he still looked worried. 

"A woman named Tina will want to have a look at you both if you'll come inside," Andromeda went on. "She has some medical education under her belt, and she helps me run the house. It seems David's here." Yates followed his dark eyes over to a very shiny blue car. "I asked him not… He'll be inside, but I think we should see Tina before we talk to him." 

“Is Tina… Does she have access to proper medication, sir?” Yates asked shakily. 

"She can tell us if the materials she has on hand are enough to treat it. If not, we have a doctor who treats our residents and would never tell." He looked to Harley. "Remember Doctor Miller?"

Harley nodded. “She nice. Kind. Tell jokes and blow up plastic gloves.”

Andromeda nodded. He didn't say anything more to Yates and Ginger, no questions or commands.

“Um… can we come inside please, sir?” Yates asked. 

"Of course! Come on."

Yates helped Ginger stagger over the threshold. A plumpish woman with short blue hair and a nose ring came down the stairs to meet them, smiling warmly. She was carrying another child on her hip. Scrawny as he was, he looked way too old to be hauled around like that. 

Looking around, there seemed to be no one else in the living room or around the stairs, but the floorboards creaking overhead and hushed voices in the kitchen were so ominous that neither noticed the child's rapid hand movements at first. 

“Hello,” the woman said, keeping her voice lighthearted while her eyes flicked over Ginger and Yates, looking for injuries. “I’m Tina. It’s lovely to meet you. And this is Nils.” She gently jogged the child on her hip. 

Nils reached toward Ginger but Andromeda pushed his hand down. Ginger moved away instinctively, standing in front of Yates, though he was so weak he could barely stand, let alone fight people off. 

"We should probably get them lying down," Andromeda murmured.

Tina nodded, gently putting Nils down. “How about you go play with Harley while I help these two?” she said. 

Nils made some gestures the newcomers didn't recognize and grabbed Harley's skinny wrist. Yates worried that the kid must have been freezing, shirtless and barefoot in just a pair of thick pyjama pants. 

“Is he being punished?” Yates whispered fearfully. “Is that why he’s not allowed clothes?”

“No!” Tina said quickly. “No, Nils isn’t a fan of clothes. It took a lot to get him to wear the pants.”

"Perhaps the downstairs sitting room will be a good place for right now?" Andromeda suggested, no connection to the previous conversation. "It's not a proper sleeping space, but…" 

“They’ll have privacy,” Tina agreed. “I think it’ll be okay.”

Andromeda nodded. "It's this way."

Tina went to help Ginger, but he shied away and clung to Yates instead, following Andromeda down into the basement - because that's what it was, a basement, even if it was furnished and given deep plum walls and a cream carpet, even if Andromeda gave it a different name.

Ginger was laid on a sofa the colour of pink candy floss, and Andromeda shared a look with Tina. She smiled at him, though her eyes were trying to give him stay here signals. New arrivals could be nervous, skittish, sometimes hostile. She might need his help. He just smiled too, and Ginger bristled a bit, feeling that something was just communicated between them, but having no idea what. Now he kind of wanted to puke on their carpet. 

Tina turned to him, still smiling. “David said you were injured? Could you show me, please?”

Ginger stuck his arm behind his back, scowling. Yates tugged at his shirt. “You need help!” he hissed. 

"Aren't you in pain?" Andromeda asked. 

“No,” he muttered, while Yates nodded his head vigorously. 

“He is.” Yates put his head on Ginger’s shoulder, his fingers digging into his shirt. “Please let them help you. For me?” 

Ginger sighed heavily, and held out his bandaged hand. “I hate it when you do that,” he mumbled, but he laid his head against Yates’s. 

Even as Tina's fingers encircled his wrist and turned his hand over in hers, Andromeda's eyes taking this in from over by the wall was somehow worse.  Ginger felt itchy and exposed under his gaze.

“What?” Ginger snapped at him. Honestly, he wanted to see what Tina would do when he was so blatantly rude to this man who was her… boyfriend? Who knew. But she clearly liked him. “Why is he staring at us? What’s he even doing he— OW!” He gasped as a sharp stab of pain travelled all the way up to his elbow. Tina was pulling off the bandages, trying to be as careful as she could, but the blood and pus had hardened into a clumped mess with the bandages. Removing them would also mean ripping off scabs and bursting blisters.

Tina shook her head. “This is bad. You’ll need stronger pain relief than we have here.” She nodded at Andromeda. “We need Doctor Miller.”

Aside from his light brown skin paling a few shades, Andromeda didn't react much. He nodded. "Mm. Okay, I'll call her and let David know what's going on." 

“Probably best not to let David come down here. You know he’s pretty squeamish.” She turned back to Ginger as Andromeda headed up the stairs. “Your old owners did this to you?”

Ginger gave her a look. “No, I just really felt like holding my hand against the cooker one day.”

“I tried to help but I didn’t have the right medication or supplies,” Yates said miserably. “And now it’s so much worse.”

“You did a really good job, considering the circumstances,” Tina said. “Don’t worry, we don’t do those kinds of things here. No punishments. Nobody deliberately hurting you.”

“But what if we’re bad?” Yates whispered. “Don’t we get punished then?”

“Nobody will hurt you now, no matter what you do.”

Ginger and Yates glanced at each other. Neither looked convinced. Stanley had played nicey-nicey at first, after all. The punishments came later.

Andromeda was back down within minutes, and for some reason he had several metal mixing bowls and washcloths. He put them on the marble coffee table.

"Doctor Miller is on her way. You know I'm a dope with the medical stuff but I did my best to explain it and she doesn't think he needs to come down to the clinic, but if he does you know how that goes, that's fine, but hopefully they can just stay here," Andromeda gabbled, scarcely taking a breath. 

Tina went to put an arm around him. “Thanks, love. Don’t worry, it’s going to be fine. I’m sure she can treat them here.” 

Yates and Ginger stared. Obviously Ivy and Stanley weren’t a couple, so they’d never really experienced any sort of romantic affection between two people before. They knew about the Romantics, of course, but they had been taught to ignore those things themselves. How much was allowed in ordinary households? Was kissing a private or a public thing? 

"And David's aware," Andromeda went on. "I convinced him to wait here a bit longer and see these two after Doctor Miller leaves. Priscilla's keeping him busy for now."

“That’s good. Hopefully he’s keeping an eye on Nils and Harley too. You know how Nils can lead Harley into trouble.”

Andromeda nodded, very serious. "Crow and Briar are still in bed but I'm a bit late to making breakfast. I'll try to get Nils and Harley to 'help'," he said, doing air quotes. 

Tina laughed. “Thank you. I’ll come help as soon as I can.”

Andromeda grinned and dashed off. He seemed to be in a perpetual state of motion, running to and fro every which way.

“Are Harley and Nils your brothers?” Yates asked. 

“They’re like family now, but we’re not biologically related. Nils is my adopted child,” Tina explained. “Harley is like you guys, though he was on his own. He came to us a couple of years ago.”

“He’s nice,” Yates mumbled. 

“Yes, he’s a sweetheart. But he was treated very badly before he came here. It took a long time for him to feel safe, and he still struggles sometimes. But Harley is proof that it can get better for you guys, okay?”

Ginger and Yates exchanged glances again. They didn’t say anything else to Tina until Doctor Miller arrived. 

She was a big, plump woman - not as tall as Tina but rounder, and decades older. Her coiffed hair, stiff as a helmet, was dyed very bright orange, but Ginger didn't think she was a redhead before she'd gone grey. Her lips were crimson and her eyelids blue all the way to her miniscule eyebrows. She wore the signature white lab coat but also a big wooden bowtie and giant, round glasses. Under her coat were lilac scrubs patterned with puppies and kittens. 

She was, without a doubt, a pediatric doctor.

"Hiya lovelies, I'm Doctor Miller!" she said, shaking both their (uninjured) hands.

Somehow the doctor was more comforting, strange and patronizing as she seemed. Well, not comforting, but… predictable. The scientists at the facility's clinic were never as serious and cruel as the handlers. This was just a job, a paycheck. Few got the sick thrill the handlers did. Doctors were doctors and that was that. These people, this Tina and Andromeda… not so much. 

As this clown of a doctor looked at and gently prodded his hand, Ginger imagined her mercilessly stripping flesh right from bone along with the bandages. But she filled one of Andromeda's mixing bowls with some clear fluid and had him keep his hand in there for what felt like ages. When he started to get fidgety, she said, "There there, we're almost done."

Finally she instructed him to pull his hand out. 

"This might feel a little funny," she told him, "and it'll look worse. You might not want to look." 

Yates buried his face in Ginger’s shoulder obediently, but Ginger shook his head. “I’ll watch.”

If soaking his hand took ages, removing the bandages took a lifetime. Sometimes he wasn't sure if she was even pulling, and when any gauze didn't strip away instantaneously she stuck his hand back in the water. And as the last of the rusty-coloured gauze came off, his stomach turned over.

"This here," she said, pointing with a blue-gloved finger to a giant red lump with smaller bumps of yellow-green, "is a carbuncle. Funny name for a not so funny thing. But we can easily defeat this beast."

“It’s disgusting,” Ginger said hoarsely. “Just cut my damn hand off.”

"It looks worse than it is," she promised. She moved the bowl of fluid away and replaced it with an empty bowl, continuing with this no-big-deal attitude even as she delved into her bag and pulled out torture devices in plastic packaging.

Vague memories of needles and bags of icy fluid and the white walls at the facility pushed at his brain and he initially refused to give his hand over until Yates pulled the, "Please? For me?"

"That's so not fair," Ginger grumbled. 

She stuck the needle in and injected it around the "carbuncle" and the smaller pustules around it, and his hand became numb and tingly. Doctor Miller had to ask him to stop poking at and shaking it. 

"You were so brave!" exclaimed Doctor Miller. Ginger felt… was that frustration?

When she pulled an actual knife from plastic packaging, Ginger wondered if they vacuum sealed thumbscrews and pears of anguish too. Other instruments of torture.

He frowned then. Where did he learn about those? He couldn't place the era those tools were from. Probably not modern… right? Though maybe Ivy would’ve liked them. 

“What’re you going to do now?” he asked Doctor Miller warily. “Slice it?”

"We need to drain as much of the pus as we can. The rest will be treated with medicine and bandages."

“Fantastic,” Ginger sighed. He glanced at Tina. “Is… is everybody going to watch?” He felt strangely self-conscious, as if they were watching him use the toilet. 

"They can go if you're sure that's what you want." 

“It’s just embarrassing,” he mumbled.

"It's your decision, lovey."

He sighed. “Just… nobody else? Please?” He didn’t think he was allowed to order people around yet, even if they were playing nice. He couldn’t just tell this Tina to get lost. 

"All right. Some privacy, please, you two," she told Yates and Tina.  

“No, I need Yates!” Ginger cried, grabbing at Yates with his right hand. He pulled away from Doctor Miller again, his eyes suddenly wild and panicked. 

"Okay, then. Tina, love, give us a moment," Doctor Miller said calmly. Tina smiled and nodded, going upstairs without a word. 

Yates cuddled against Ginger’s side. “I’m here. I’m staying.”

Doctor Miller nodded, smiling a bit at them. It only lasted a second, and she pulled on goggles and a new pair of gloves. "Can I see your hand again?"

Ginger held it out reluctantly. “Will it get better?” It had looked so awful before that he’d worried it’d never heal. Yates told him it would, but Yates probably would’ve fibbed to stop him panicking. 

"If we keep up with treatment, it will. You came just in the nick of time." She continued talking as she moved his numbed hand over one of the bowls and pressed the tip of the knife into one of the yellow-green bumps on the carbuncle, not flinching as cloudy liquid spurted out.

Ginger pulled a face. “Yuck…” This was going to take ages. His cheeks started burning with shame. He felt responsible for having such a disgusting thing happen to him. “I’m sorry.”

"Don't be. Bodies do yucky things. We humans can't help being gross sometimes." 

His face went from pink to crimson. The childish language was even more embarrassing, though Ginger knew it was kindly meant. He started fidgeting again, a tight knot tying itself up in his chest. He had that terrible, itching urge to run.

She didn't just slice and poke, she squeezed and scraped and splattered the metal bowl with cloudy yellow-white and red. It smelled like rot. 

It was horrible. After a while Ginger stopped watching. He fixed his gaze on a corner of the ceiling and tried to forget where he was, his vision blurring around the edges. He used to do this during training, when the pain was so bad and he felt so miserable he didn’t want to wake up. Yates called it dissociating; Ginger didn’t know that word. Maybe it was a medical thing.

Eventually he was jolted by a firm pat on his back. "All done, love."

His hand was wrapped and everything. He remembered none of it. 

“Will it get all disgusting like that again?” he asked. 

"Not if you take your medicine and let Tina change your bandages." 

“What kind of medicine?” He looked panicked again. “The sleep medicine?”

"No, none of that. Antibiotics. All they do is stop the infection and help you heal," she explained, and as she zipped up her bag Ginger realized everything was already packed up. Where did she put the dirty bandages and instruments? Both used bowls and the other unused ones still sat on the table, and the smell lingered. "I'm going to send in a prescription to the chemist and someone will pick it up." 

“Thank you so much,” Yates whispered. “We’re very grateful to you.”

She stood up, smiling at them. "I'll tell one of them to pick up his prescription on my way out. Be good, loves."

“We’ll do as we’re told,” Yates promised. That’s what be good meant, right?

"No, no, only with the medicine. Well, and other things meant to keep you safe. You listen to yourself otherwise."

Yates frowned. Listen to himself? He didn’t think he knew how to do that anymore. Maybe he’d just listen to Ginger instead. 

She was gone, upstairs, and they were alone in this frilly pink-and-purple room, not sure what would happen next. 

[syms-things-5]

Clear The Area - Chapter Twelve

Previous chapter HERE

Tags: (I can’t believe I have tags!! Thank you both so much) @kelbabyblue @jennmurawski13

Warnings: 18+ NSFW, strong language

CHAPTER TWELVE

Three Weeks Later

“OK, so what is the point of all this again?” Scott leaned in towards Sarah as they started arranging themselves around the coffee table. An assortment of plates and napkins were stacked high in front of them in anticipation of what was currently happening in the kitchen. Alongside sat and open bottle of wine and various pieces of plastic cutlery. Sarah was already dreading the tidying-up.

Shanna had demanded that everyone cancel their plans that Friday so they could devote the evening to testing out the various cakes and desserts she would spend a few days crafting. Sarah had been glad she had worked constantly throughout and had managed to swap a couple of late shifts so she could avoid the battleground and constant swearing emanating from their kitchen. It was almost unrecognisable to her now, a dusting of flour covered pretty much every surface and everything smelled faintly of gingerbread. There were brand new utensils appearing in the dishwasher that she had never seen before. Who knew you could ice cupcakes in so many extravagant ways?

Baking and cooking in general rarely came easy to Shanna, less so without the guidance of a proficient baker such as Lisa who had of course been banned from assisting her that week. Shan just didn’t have the patience for measuring things out so baking would require an almost complete change of personality. Even a late-night call to discuss the basic recipe for a genoise sponge cake wasn’t enough to allow help through the front door.

“It’s for a charity drive, I think? Their regional offices do it every year but I don’t remember it being this taxing.” Sarah shrugged, equally as confused. Usually for Shanna when effort was involved, it meant only one thing: there was a guy she wanted to impress. Sarah couldn’t remember her mentioning anyone in particular of late, though. Then again, they hadn’t been in the same space for too long these days and that thought made her feel sad and uncomfortable.

“Fuck, I ate lunch later today as well. Am I gonna regret this?” Scott asked, sympathising with his full stomach.

“It’s a good job I’m not on a training plan anymore.” Chris walked into the lounge bringing with him a couple of beers, handing them to Sarah and Scott before taking a seat beside her on the couch. “It’s like fuckin’ MasterChef in there.”

“I might trying drinking some more water. Maybe if I pee more it might create extra space.”

“The fuck?” questioned Chris after him as he darted out of the room one last time before Shanna was finished. “I swear sometimes I can’t believe we’re related.”

“I think he thinks the same thing.” replied Sarah, jokingly as she took a swig from her bottle. “Oh wait beer’s filling, isn’t it?”

“Dunno. Probably. So am I gonna see you at all this week or am I gonna have to stalk your Facebook page?”

“Sorry, I’ll...wait, you stalk my Facebook?!”

“No,” he shrugged nonchalantly. “Only sometimes. It helps me remember what you look like.”

“Oh my god...I thought you were gonna be patient?” she asked, softening her stance so as to avoid it coming across as a dispute.

“This is me being patient, Sarah.” He protected. “You’re cute when you’re annoyed with me by the way. Always thought that.”

Sarah teasingly rolled her eyes at him. “I finish at two tomorrow. I guess I could come by after?”

It mystified him why she felt the need to ask. If he had it his way, he would give her a key and tell her he once fantasised about her sneaking into his apartment late at night and fucking him senseless. 

He didn’t get the chance to verbally agree as Lisa appeared in the doorway looking slightly shell-shocked and carrying a long white tray in both hands, a tea-towel  thrown over one shoulder. At first, they appeared to chocolate brownies until closer inspection showed it to be a slightly burnt sheet cake with rainbow-coloured icing and decorations. Chris gave her a look of concern not dissimilar to a face he pulls when he wants her help in getting out of something or when he tries to claim Scott is bullying him, but Lisa merely widened her eyes in response. He soon understood why as Shanna followed closely behind with two other plates piled high with cakes and treats. Noticing her struggle, Sarah got up to assist Lisa in placing the tray down on the glass table in front of her and Chris took the sly opportunity to pinch the back of her arm. As she sat back down, she caught him nod once in acceptance of her suggestion.

“Is there any chocolate in this or is it all in your hair?” Chris joshed his sister who clearly had no energy left to scold him with.

“Just...shush, OK? She’s worked very hard and it all smells rather delicious, wouldn’t you say?” asked Lisa trying to rouse some support.

“Oh absolutely!!” replied Sarah, taking the bait and nodding profusely much to Chris’ amusement. “Can we start anywhere or is there a preferred order we have to try out?”

“Which we absolutely can do with this rocky road!” Chris said as he held up a sizeable slab of dark chocolate rocky road and pretended to analyse it, comically squinting his eyes. Regrettable, Shanna hadn’t realised she was supposed to chop the macadamia nuts into smaller pieces so eating a piece of it would likely risk a chipped tooth that evening.

“Chris!” shouted Lisa.

“What?!” he objected. “It’s constructive criticism.”

Shanna simply called him a jackass and tossed a handful of napkins at his face. Chris managed to deflect them before absent-mindedly handing one to Sarah.

Recently, Sarah had thought it odd how they had managed to avoid anyone catching on with that had been happening between them. She thought it so obvious. There were little exchanges here and there that seemed so noticeable such as making her a coffee without asking first, or texting her first to inform them he was coming over instead of Shanna. On one occasion the week previous, Chris had asked her about a work issue but Shanna hadn’t clocked anything. It’s possible it had all just been heightened in Sarah’s own consciousness. Most likely it appeared to be natural, friendly behaviour and there was in fact nothing to worry about. Still, she felt the need to remain vigilant.

Truthfully, they had been together maybe...three times? And one of those was just afternoon drinking after she finished work. He hadn’t pushed her into anything more and she was grateful. He had made it pretty obvious how he was feeling though not necessarily with words per se but with affectations here and there. He had taken to texting her late at night knowing she’d be curled up and getting ready to go to sleep, and then again in the morning to wish her a good day. Sometimes, she wondered if he just generally liked talking to her about nothing in particular. He once snuck a bag of Hershey’s Kisses into the apartment when Shanna wasn’t around and hid them under her bed so she could find them later on. Even thought she cautioned him for taking the risk, she had to admit it was nice. Really nice. He would make a good boyfriend, she thought. He had a big heart and a massive capacity for affection.

She had not stayed over and the benefits of shift changes with little notice meant she could avoid the deplorable concept of lying to her best friend about where she was. For the time being at least. Frankly, Sarah thought she would have given the game away by now such was her ability to resonate blame with physical ease. She figured there would be an accidental comment here or there or perhaps she would leave her phone open on text with Shanna stumbling across it. They had agreed to be as cautious as possible, which was the most obvious decision, but the seamless nature in which their relationship had changed over just the last couple of weeks had been scarily swift and, dare she say it, even easy at times. Chris once joked they must not have been great friends to begin with which didn’t sit well within her so he quickly changed the subject. So, in acknowledgement of her anxiety, he calmed down his seductive looks reaching her across the room, refrained from tucking har out of her face no matter how much he might want to do so, and stopped playfully pinching her on parts of her body when he thought no one was looking. They weren’t looking, why would they, but regardless, it helped make her feel less antsy in his presence and that was what he wanted.

She sat watching the family interact while eating cakes and cookies and the feared rocky road which, unexpectedly, was not as much of a disaster as they had been warned. Scott even asked to take some home for Zach which Shanna took as the biggest compliment of the evening so far, that and Chris managing to keep quiet for a whole ten minutes while enjoying a ginger-flavoured cake-pop. She had followed some recipes carefully, others not so much, but on the whole, it was seriously impressive.

“These are my favourite, I think. You should absolutely make more of these.” Sarah enthused, pointing to the white chocolate and lemon cookies, or what was left of them. “I didn’t think they’d work but they really do!”

“God I’m so glad you said that. They only take minutes to bake and I could make dozens of them for the sale.” Shanna grabbed her iPad and made yet another note. She had perked up in the last hour or so having been faced with some rather reassuring feedback and set about deciding a plan for her contribution towards the sale. Whatever the reason for this sudden burst of creativity, she wasn’t strictly letting on, but it was nice to see her excited about something work-related for a change.

*

There were definite benefits to hanging out at Chris’ apartment. For one, it was peaceful and secluded even when they chose to sit outside on his terrace and bask in the afternoon sunshine. There was no one else to look over the trestle fencing and you’d be forgiven for forgetting he lived in the centre of a busy town. He also owned the most incredible sound system money could buy, that was built into the very fabric of the whole property. No matter where you chose to hang out, it was always felt like there was an enjoyable gentle thrum of music coming every single angle, every single corner of the place, enveloping you and calming you down in equal measure. Oftentimes, the only two places Sarah spent any meaningful time was either in her bedroom or at the hospital so a change of scenery at the very least could only be a positive thing.

His breath had been ghosting over the skin on her neck for a little while and it was making her tingle. “Can I tell you something? But you might think it’s weird...”

“Mmmm?”

“i feel like I’m a teenager again.”

Sarah opened one eye and peered up at him as he leaned on his elbow beside her. “Yeh that is weird.”

He playfully jabbed her side causing her to flinch. “I just mean that it’s like we’re at school and trying to go undetected. Like, hiding out from our friends. It’s kinda fun, right?”

She thought about it for a second, smiling back up at him and his glorious face that was managing to display a look of joy in spite of his busier facial hair. Now wasn’t the time to confess her anxieties about their situation when she had promised herself and him that she would just enjoy the moment for what it was. “Yeh, I know. It’s cute.”

“i just don’t want you feeling like you can’t unwind here. When we are here, when we do get to be alone, I think we should make the most of it.” He implored her again, hoping to hear her agree but he settled for a smile and the back of her hand reaching up to graze the side of his face. “It’s not like we’re here all the time or anything.” He brought her hand round to his mouth and pressed a gentle kiss to her fingertips before lying back down beside her.

They had been lying on his sofa for nearly an hour now, in no particular rush to do anything, just enjoying the peace and quiet. It was warm and sunny outside, the first nice day they’d had in a while, and the windows were open to allow the room to stay pleasantly cool. He ran his hand over her lower tummy and played with the drawstring bow that was currently separating him from where he wanted to be. As much as he liked to make fun of her scrubs from time to time, and that was one thing that had not changed, he was starting to grow accustomed to them in a fond yet strangely sexual way. He wasn’t normally bothered by women in a uniform but there was a first time for everything. He nuzzled in against her neck and left a biting kiss on her earlobe.

“I wanna take you while you’re wearing these.” he murmured, impishly letting go of the elastic waistband so it snapped back onto her skin.

Sarah’s eyes pinged open. She couldn’t tell whether he was being serious or not. As he moved his body to rest over her, she felt his fingers deftly pull on the bow to loosen the waistband and laughed when she saw the mischievous glint in his eyes.

“I cannot believe you just said that,” she giggled, wiping at one of her eyes in embarrassment while he inched her pants down off her hips and made himself comfortable again between her legs. “Are you serious?”

“Well, unless we’re gonna do it in a hospital supply closet, yes.”

“You know that doesn’t happen in real life, right? You’ve watched too much ‘Nurse Jackie’.” She moved her weight onto her shoulders, lifting her ass up to help him remove her trousers completely.

“First, it was ER, and second, why would they say it happens if it didn’t happen? They have medical consultants, right? They have people who advise on these things. It is obviously based on fact.” He smirked at her while helping himself to a smooth caress back up her legs. She couldn’t trust that he wasn’t genuinely upset at the prospect that he might not eventually get to have sex in the hospital. He was hard to read when sex was involved and small ministrations he had made with her suggested she was nowhere near as experienced or confident as he was in that department. This must be like the pillow fight fantasy men have and how it’s just easier to allow them to assume it happens on a regular basis lest the truth invoke spontaneous combustion or something.

He finally rested over her body, propping himself up by his arms either side of her head. He moved strands of hair out of her face and kissed her once and then again. His playful tone clearly belied the thoughts running through his mind and she felt him stiffen between her legs, causing her arousal to grow.

“Look, just think about it, OK? he kissed her neck and then again just above her collarbone causing a shiver to run through her body. “Just think about me-” he kissed the swell of her breast through her t-shirt “-about what we could do-” he shifted up the hem leaving her midriff exposed to the cool air before he continued to kiss his way further down “-about what I could do to you-” he grazed his fingers over her panties causing her breath to hitch “-fuck it’s be so hot-” her eyes closed in anticipation as he left wet kisses further down her stomach, his tongue caressing her skin as he moved “-and it’d feel so good-” further still “-so good, honey-” his fingernails deliberately scratched down her sides to catch up causing another shiver to twist her insides “-and it’d be so worth it-” he pulled down the sides of her panties as he went “-and we’ll call it even, yes?”

He teasingly bit her causing her to cry out and her eyes to surge open. She soon met the devil in his own as he looked back up at her coquettishly through his eyelashes, his grin disappearing as he moved down to see her open to him. He was a bad man and, in that moment, she knew he had her. He kissed her slowly, deliberately, little butterfly kisses she could barely feel but knew were there from his warm breath and the delicious sounds his lips made. Just as her hands reached out for him, his tongue entered the game gently massaging her, spreading her lips a little more to glide deeper inside her. He looked up again to find her grabbing at the armrest above her, the familiar blush covering her skin. His hands reached under her thighs, steadying them both, silently proud of his work.

He fought hard to keep himself under control at first, her involuntary reactions proving irresistible as he continued to work her over. Her hands stayed grasping at the armrest, her eyes tightly shut now, as he switched between firmer nudges and gentler, longer strokes. He couldn’t believe he hadn’t instigated this sooner, she looked so enticing above him and it was all he could do not to ravish her there and then. Just as he moved his right hand from outside her thigh, he felt her hands cover his own. Smoothing over his hair, he felt a shiver envelope his skin as her fingernails scratched over his scalp forcing his eyes to close in pleasure and his mouth to falter ever so slightly.

“Come here...” she whispered.

Their eyes reconnected and he crawled back over her to join their lips in a passionate kiss. She helped him pull his sweater over the back of his head and he tossed it onto the floor beside them, his jeans quickly joining it before he awkwardly shifted his boxers down his legs eager to pounce back onto her. She giggled before meeting his kiss again. This was all he really wanted; her hands on him, one delicately toying with his hair, maybe pulling slightly when he hits her at the right spot.

He found her shyness vanishing little by little after their first time. Well, second time, technically. He was increasingly comforted by her kisses and the way she would nervously reach for him when they were together. Her own way of letting him know, without words, that she wanted to be there.

“You OK?” he whispered, nipping at her bottom lip causing a smile to flash across her face as she looked up at him. They hadn’t yet got to the point where they felt they could safely assume what the other was thinking so he felt the need to keep asking the question of her, once for reassurance and twice because he just really wanted to hear her whimper as he teasingly rubbed himself against her.

Her breathing grew shallower and her fingers grabbed at his back when she felt him thrust faster, harder, hitting her where she wanted it, over and over again. He never missed a beat. Her hands gripped at him harder than he’d felt before and he got excited at the thought of seeing the marks she would leave on him later on. As he moved his mouth back over hers, their breaths mixing together, she shuddered and after another second or two, finally came hard around him. It didn’t take him long to follow, watching her up close could do that to a man, and they remained in this spot, him lying on top of her, for a few more minutes.

Her back arched as she guided him to her. He felt her grab his shoulders as he pushed inside and she allowed herself finally for the first time that day to block out the rest of the world, leaving only him. He just wanted her to focus solely on him. Just for now.

She wraps her arms around him again as he rested his on either side of her head, allowing him to control their movement as he slowly, confidently, slides in and out of her. She feels warm and soft and...comforting all at once. He relished the tightness, tugging a little on her earlobe when he feels her pulse around him. It was all he had thought about thst day and there would be other times they could slow things down.

Her breathing grew shallower and her fingers grabbed at his back when she felt him thrust a little faster, harder, hitting her where she wanted it, over and over again. He never missed a beat. Her hands gripped at him harder than he’d felt before and he got excited at the thought of seeing the marks she would leave on him later on. As he moved his mouth back over hers, their breaths mixing together, she shuddered and after another second or two, finally came hard around him. It didn’t take him long to follow, watching her up close could do that to a man, and they remained in this spot, him lying on top of her, for a few more minutes.

“Oh fuck...” he panted over her neck, her hair sticking to his forehead when he moved back to kiss her. 

“Yeh...” she agreed, unable to muster much energy to add anything else. Her hand returned to caress the back of his head and she felt him relax into her touch until he got a little too heavy and she had to shift out from underneath him.

He took the opportunity to pull his boxers back up as she corrected her own underwear. They smiled at each other and laughed a little bit at the state they were in. He reached out to tuck some hair behind her ear before leaning in to kiss her again, retaining some of the passion from just moments ago but not wanting to push his luck.

“Where are you going?” he asked as she bent down to grab one shoe and then the other after spying it underneath his coffee table.

“Home.”

He straightened up on the sofa, eying her as she slipped on her canvas sneaker having not bothered to untie them from when she had kicked them off earlier. “Stay here for a bit. I could make us something and we can hang out. We’re allowed to do that, surely?”

“That might look a bit weird, no?”

“Why? You’ve stayed here loads of times before.”

“Only when the apartment flooded or when you’ve had a party. It’ll look strange.” She turned to look at him, a sorrowful glance telling him all he needed to know. “Sorry. It’s just I promised Shan we’d have a night in with a pizza. I think I owe her.”

“Owe her?’

“Yeh, just...some time, maybe? I’ve barely spoken to her lately and I think something is going on with a guy or possible with work.”

“She’s a big girl, Sarah, she can take care of herself.” He attempted a protest but knew he was fighting a losing battle as she reached for her hoodie off the armchair. “And you have a life, too. You’ve been working loads. You’ve got a stressful job, and...”

“...and among other things.” she pointedly suggested. “It just feels like we’re ships passing in the night at the moment. Has she said anything to you?’

“Why would she tell me about some loser she may or may not like?” He spoke in a clipper tone but regretted it as soon as the words slipped out of his mouth. He rolled back onto the couch, sighing in defeat and unable to think of a decent come-back. She leaned down to fix her shoes again and avoided his eye contact when she got up to leave. The sad puppy expression that he’d skilfully mastered over the years had failed on this occasion but he wouldn’t be discouraged from using it again.

“Soooo...I guess I’ll just see you tomorrow, then?” he called out as she began to leave.

She turned back to find him lying on his couch like Kate Winslet in ‘Titanic’, one leg dangling off the side and his stomach perfectly displaying his hard-fought-for abs. His skin looked unfairly smooth even from this distance, and she bristled at the thoughts of having been under him just minutes ago.

“Don’t forget me...” he pouted and she would have blessed him with a quick peck on the lips by way of an apology before he smiled at her. She playfully rolled her eyes at him, made a point of remembering him laid out this way, and walked out.

*

[angelanimedesaray]

Through The Looking Glass Chapter 2: Like Smoke

AN:  Ahhh, yes, I get to continue this one--I keep getting distracted...by the planning for this series.  I’ve got pages and pages of notes for this series now, It’s getting to be quite the ambitious project.  OH and I have a playlist for the series, too, on YouTube.  There’s a link for it on the Masterlist.  BTW I’m tagging all of the things that have to do with this (Chapters, Masterlist, and Playlist) #TTLG and all my fanfics have my penname AngelDesaray in the tags (Unless for some reason I forgot)

P.S. to find my masterlists, I link the masterlists for series in every chapter (As well as previous or next chapters).  Links to stories and series masterlists can also be found in my Author Masterlists, which can be found as a separate page on my blog under the Masterlist tab on desktop (Only shows published pieces), or as a link in my blog bio for mobile users (Also has upcoming pieces listed).

Characters:  Levi, Reader, Reader’s Mom, Kenny (Mentioned)

Pairing:  (Eventual) Levi x Reader

Warnings:  I mean, there’s fluff...and there’s some sad stuff near the end...

Word Count:  5004

<---Previous Chapter    Masterlist    Next Chapter--->

(Gif From Your Lie In April, found on Your-Lie-In-April on Deviant Art)

*Levi’s POV*

The sound of a distant woman calling a familiar name roused Levi from what may have been one of the best rests he’d had so far in his very young life, eyes fluttering open slowly as he tried to remember where he was.  Everything was so soft, and he just wanted to drift back to sleep, curl up in the fluffy warmth around him and…

The woman’s voice came again, a little closer this time, and there came a sudden burst of movement next to him, Levi’s eyes flying open as the little body of Y/N flailed to untangle themselves from the mess of blankets around both of them.  She struggled to her feet with a squeak and fumbled for the door that she toppled ungracefully out of, crawling on hands and knees out the door and kicking it shut.  Levi was left dazed, halfway risen out of the blankets, and wondering what had just happened, but now also laden down with the weight of several more blankets since she had thrown blankets and pillows onto him in her mad dash to get out the door.  He pushed a few blankets off, crawling over to one of the tiny windows to catch a glimpse of the girl reaching the door to the back of the house, where the woman who had been calling her name was standing in the doorway.  He could only hear fragments of the conversation if he listened hard enough.

“...sleep in...all night?”

“...forgot...check...almost couldn’t sleep....”

“...school...thirty minutes...late…”

Levi shook his head, dropping back down into the mess of blankets with a muffled yawn as he glanced around trying to find the water bottles in the now tumultuous mass of blankets and pillows.  Once he found them buried in one of the corners he finished off the one bottle he’d started on the day before he laid back down, contemplating going back to sleep despite the light filtering into the little house.  He was so comfortable, and if something happened and he had to go back, then he wanted to enjoy it while he could.

The door was thrown open, startling Levi with the suddenness of it all as he saw Y/N stick her head inside, huffing like she was out of breath and hadn’t stopped running since she scrambled out of the tiny house.  After her head poked in and she saw where Levi was, she tossed a sac of some sheer, opaque material inside, its contents rolling around.  She spoke quickly in the brief flash that he saw her, the last part tacked on as she shut the door and hurried away.

“I gotta go, I’m late for school!  Here’s food, see you later!”

Her mother shouted from the house for Y/N to hurry, even though she was already scrambling back.  Afraid that if he tried to fall asleep again she’d simply re-appear and scare him awake, Levi resigned himself to getting up for the day, reaching for the bag she’d tossed inside and poking through its contents.  There were two more rolls inside, no longer fresh and warm like they’d been yesterday, but still good.  There was also a green apple, something hard wrapped in some kind of thin, shiny, silvery covering, a spoon, and two white and red containers a little bigger than his hands that were cool to the touch and had a similar silvery covering over the top.

Deciding to investigate the stranger things later, he munched on the bread and the apple first, gazing out the window thoughtfully.

When all that was left of the start of his breakfast was half the apple, he grabbed the bag and one of the water bottles and decided to venture back outside, a little more used to the light this time since he’d woken up to it.  His legs were stronger than yesterday, steps surer as he tentatively ventured out of the little house, staying close to the walls of the little house and his head turned towards the house to keep an eye on it as he shuffled closer to the trees behind the house.  He wanted a closer look at the trees--wanted to sit quietly outside in the warm sun, breathing in the fresh air while he ate and explore the surface while he was up here.  If Y/N was going to be gone for a while, then that was what he wanted to spend the day doing.

The shade was much kinder to him than the direct sunlight, easier on his eyes that were used to the dark and not as hot.  It was comfortable and cool in the shade, and he stopped when he saw another large house starting to appear through the trees, doubling back a bit and finding a nice dry patch of grass in the shade to sit down in, curling up comfortably on the ground and squinting up at the sunlight flickering down on him through the leaves.  He was close enough to a tree he could put his hand gently against its trunk, feeling the grooves of the bark beneath his fingers and watching the rather large black ants travelling up its trunk while carrying tiny crumbs of food.

Speaking of, he still had the stranger things in the sack she had thrown him to eat.

Resting his back against the tree trunk with his knees pulled halfway up to his chest, Levi set about investigating the stranger, silvery wrapped things in the bag, finding a soothing solace in the quiet and the green all around him.

*Reader’s POV*

School couldn’t go by fast enough.  Sure, you were in trouble with your mother for messing around outside looking for a stuffed animal instead of getting ready for school.  It was better than her finding out you’d hid a boy in your playhouse all night, though, right?

Of course, with how antsy you were to get back home and see him when you had school to distract you, he must be bored out of his mind alone in that playhouse!  And he wasn’t going to get lunch until you got home, either!

With all these thoughts, you were bouncing in your seat on the bus, then racing home on foot once you finally reached your stop.  Your backpack lay abandoned at the front door, causing your mother to yell at you to pick up after yourself as you skidded into the kitchen.  Your tongue poked out as you hurried to make a peanut butter and jelly sandwich before your mother came in and tried to stop you from having a pb&j for a ‘light snack’.  Once that was finished, you grabbed two Capri Suns your mother probably thought she’d hidden, grabbed a family sized bag of chips, and dashed outside towards the playhouse.

“I’m back!  I brought...some…”

You paused, head craning and foot poking at the mess of blankets in case he was simply buried under all the fluffy things.  Still, you didn’t find Levi in the playhouse, and you stepped back outside with a frown, wondering where the little boy had disappeared to.  Your mother would have instantly pulled you aside to talk about Levi if he’d gone inside the house and been seen.  Maybe he’d wandered into the brush behind your house?

Changing directions, you started picking your way through the trees and bushes, looking for the skinny boy you’d been smuggling quite a bit of food to by now.

“Levi?  Levi!” you called as you came closer and closer to the backyard of the people who lived behind your family.

You squeaked in surprise as his head suddenly peaked out from behind one of the thicker trees, disheveled strands of black hair falling into eyes that were slightly brighter than they had been yesterday.  It seemed he was sitting with his back against the tree, legs curled up towards him, and the plastic bag of food you’d given him earlier now holding his trash at his side.  You gave him a bright smile, sitting down next to him and offering the pb&j to him.

“I brought lunch,” you said cheerfully, opening the bag of chips that made Levi jump from the loud pop sound before you placed the bag between the two of you, working on punching the yellow straws into the Capri Suns.

The silence lasted perhaps only a few seconds as Levi tore into the sandwich before it rapidly devolved into almost frantic smacking noises from Levi.  Maybe you’d put too much peanut butter on it?

You giggled as you watched him continue to make those smacking noises, struggling with the amount of sticky peanut butter with an amusing look of bemusement on his face.  When he looked at you accusingly for laughing at him, you offered him one of the Capri Suns with that bright smile still on your face.  He took it carefully from you, eyeing you more than it as you sucked happily on your own Capri Sun.  When he finally started drinking the juice, he seemed to relax, the juice soothing his peanut butter problem.

“You must have been bored, out here so long,” you said once your Capri Sun was finished.  Levi shrugged, taking smaller bites of the pb&j now.

“I like it out here,” he said simply, and now that you looked, his eyes did seem to constantly drink in the greenery around the two of you.

“There’s a...a con...conservation place a little ways away,” you said slowly, making sure the bigger word came out right.  “Mom lets me go play there--we could too.  There’s long grass, and trees, and berries, and a pond with fish and frogs and rabbits--we can play there.”

Levi was silent, chewing on the last of his pb&j thoughtfully.  “How far is it?” he asked slowly.  You suddenly remembered how he’d had a hard time moving around yesterday.

“A few streets over…” you admitted sheepishly.  “But I could carry you!”

Levi made a face, but you were already on your feet and exuding raw unbridled, positive energy.  “No, really, I’m pretty strong, I can pick up my friend at school, and you’re tinier than them.  I could give you a piggyback ride there!”

You started putting your trash in the plastic bag, rolling up the so-far untouched bag of chips.  “We can take the chips with us--I’ll throw this away, tell Mom where I’m going, and come get you!” you said cheerfully, already making your way back through the brush towards the house before Levi had the chance to agree or disagree.

*Levi’s POV*

She hadn’t been lying when she said she could carry him.  It was embarrassing, but no one seemed to be looking as the two children made their way down the sidewalks.  Levi’s legs were wrapped around her waist, her hands tucked under his knees to support him as she leaned forward slightly, Levi leaning against her back with his arms wrapped around her shoulders and across her chest for extra security.  His head peeked around hers to look around him as she carried him down a few streets paved with some kind of seamless black stone down the middle and raised brown stone on the sides.  Every now and then he saw some sort of strange horseless carriage like objects sitting unmoving along the edge of the black street or still on the wider brown-stone pathways leading up to homes.  He didn’t ask what they were, figuring it was something only surface people got to have, and Y/N was pretty much ignoring them, so he figured it was a normal sight for her, even if he found it strange.

As they went up a hill, Y/N started to pant underneath him, her hands starting to feel sweaty on his legs and her movements a little slower.

“I can walk,” Levi murmured as she continued to struggle.  He wasn’t entirely sure he’d be able to make it if he tried, honestly, but the girl shook her head.

“No, it’s...just on the other side.  I can carry you...the rest of the way,” she said between huffed breaths, shifting her grip on his legs and picking up her speed slightly as she powered stubbornly forward.  Levi clung tightly to her, turning his head and resting it on her neck as his eyes looked up at the light blue sky, gaze tracing the outlines of the soft white clouds that drifted lazily by and watching the leaves of the trees in various yards sway high above him in the breeze.  If he hadn’t been so transfixed by the sight of the surface world, he could have easily fallen asleep against her back, the secure comfort she was giving him making him feel drowsy in contrast with the energy that raced through his system with the excitement of everything around him.  Her breathing underneath him was heavy, and he could feel her quickened heartbeat against his ear, but she kept climbing with Levi on her back without a word of complaint.

When she crested the hill, the street dipped low just briefly before stretching out in one straight road, trees framing both sides for several paces before the trees on the right gave way to a meadow of long grass, just like she said.  Levi stretched forward over her shoulder to see it, eyes widening as more and more of it came into view.

Y/N only carried him until the edge of the meadow, setting him down in the soft grass with a relieved sigh.  Levi pressed some of the longer grass down as they walked forward, the meadow opening up and dipping into a lower basin where a fairly large body of water rippled and sparkled in the sunlight.  On the other side of the meadow was a thick collection of trees and bushes, and if he looked hard enough, he could see spots of dark red or blue on some of the bushes.  But that was for later--right now, he wanted to get closer to that giant pond in the middle of the meadow.

The grass tickled his arms and legs, causing him to scratch here and there as he stumbled his way down the uneven slope on shaky legs, Y/N close by the entire time with her head tilted up to the sky and the warm sun with a smile on her face.  She was so...so...happy.  She probably didn’t have to worry about anything, didn’t have to be afraid of anything.  She could only be this happy because she lived on the surface, and the things that lurked in the dark underground weren’t lurking above it.  Her life seemed...easy, perfect, and he envied her for it.  But he couldn’t envy her for it for long, because she was still sharing it with a dirty Underground dweller like him, even if he couldn’t fathom why.

“Can you swim?” she asked him as they finally reached the bank, already taking off her shoes and socks as she spoke, sitting on her rear with her feet kicking in the air in the process.  Levi shook his head, and she gave him a sheepish smile.  “I’m not a good swimmer, yet, I just bob.  We can just stick our feet in, cause it gets a little deep.”

She sat down on the edge and dipped her feet in with a little giggle, smoothing down a patch of the long grass around her and looking at him expectantly.  Levi still approached the water slowly despite the fact he was already imagining how refreshing it was going to feel, not wanting to get too eager and accidentally fall in after she said it was deep.  He settled down next to her, feet stretching out experimentally towards the water and tentatively dipping his rather dirty feet below the surface.  It was cool--not cold thanks to the sun shining down on it, but not warm either.  Pleasant in contrast to the warm air with the sun beaming down on him when there was no shade to protect him.  Levi leaned down, letting his hand dip into the water as well, swirling the waters around between his fingers.

While he was doing that, a thought occurred to him, and he dunked both hands below the water, taking the time to scrub at the dirt on his hands, arms, legs, and feet before he cupped his hands and scooped up water to splash on his face, rubbing at the dirt there, as well.  It felt so good to be clean, to see and feel the dirt giving way against the crystalline water and see the water droplets against his skin shimmer clearly under the sunlight.

Now he wouldn’t get any more dirt on all those comfy blankets and pillows in the small house he was sleeping in.

There was a sudden splash, and water spattered across his face, followed by the sounds of giggles beside him.  He was taken aback at first, looking over at Y/N just in time to see her splash the water towards him again with a huge grin on her face.  She laughed more audibly this time, with Levi trying to duck to avoid getting splashed in the face again before he returned the splashes with some of his own.  It quickly escalated, water sloshing violently between them and getting them both soaked, Y/N’s gleeful shrieks filling the air and a wide smile working its  way across Levi’s face.  He felt lighter than he’d felt in some time, like he would float away up into that blue sky any moment.

“Okay, okay!  Uncle!  Uncle!  I give up!” she eventually laughed, the splashing finally calming down and the waters returning to its calm state around their feet.  They were soaked now, and Levi shivered, but the sun was still warm against his skin, and he felt like he’d dry out in no time.  Y/N pulled her feet out of the water, trying to wring the water out of her hair as she stretched, eyes on the bushes on the other side of the pond.  “Do you want some berries?”

“Okay.”

He watched her head over to the bushes he’d been eyeing earlier, brushing hair out of his face and watching as she picked berries off the bushes and used her shirt as a makeshift basket to collect them in.  The only sound was the occasional drip of disturbed water or the rustle of leaves, and he laid down, some of the grass curling back up around him and towards the sky.  A soft breeze wafted the grass above him, the thin blades waving in and out of his immediate field of vision.

Please...let me stay...

A few minutes later, Y/N had reappeared, standing over him with her shirt basket heavy with berries as she kneeled down next to him.  He sat up on his elbows as she showed him her collection of small red cup-shaped berries and round blue berries, her free hand already digging into her collection to grab a few of the red berries.

“Raspberries are my favorite,” she explained with a small giggle, offering the berries to him after she’d grabbed what she wanted.  Levi got a handful for himself, a lot less hesitant in trying the foods this time since almost everything she’d given him so far had been delicious.

He didn’t care much for those chalky rectangular things in the silver wrapping this morning, though.

Something caught Y/Ns attention, her head turned to the side as she went still, nose wrinkling as she suddenly became far more concentrated than Levi had seen her so far.

“Hold these,” she said quietly, dumping the rest of the berries on him so suddenly that Levi had to scramble to snatch them up before they all tumbled to the ground.  She wasn’t even paying attention anymore, crouching low in the grass and creeping slowly towards the pond like a kitten stalking a mouse.  He watched her, confused, wondering for a few moments if she’d seen a fish in the pond or a bird or something.

Suddenly, her hands shot out, cupped around something as she let out a loud squeal and leapt to her feet.

“I got it, I got it!” she crowed, prancing back over to where Levi was sitting, getting really close on her knees with her cupped hands between them.  She held it up close to his face, but craned her head awkwardly so she could see as well, forehead knocking against his.  “I don’t want it...to get away…”

Slowly, she bent her thumbs, a small crack appearing in her cupped hands that she gradually widened further and further.  At first, Levi didn’t see anything, but then, slowly, two glimmering, tiny, beady black eyes caught some of the sun, and Levi realized there was some kind of tiny creature trapped in her hands.  He got closer, trying to see what it was, faintly making out a fat but tiny body, spindly limbs, and--

Y/N suddenly shrieked, hands opening reflexively.  “AH!  It peed on me!”

All Levi registered was peed and the fact that suddenly a tiny little brown and spotted body was flying out of her hands, through the air, and directly towards him.  His own vocal reaction was lost in her continued shrieks of disgust as he tried to get out of the way, a tiny, bumpy, sort of slimy body landing on his arm.  Afraid the thing was going to pee on him, too, his arm jerked upwards in response, and it flew off of him and disappeared back into the tall grass.

Y/N had abandoned him to the little menace already, her hands plunged into the pond as she scrubbed valiantly at her hands, muttering ew over and over before she pulled them back out and tried to shake the water off her hands.  Levi was still wide eyed and trying to figure out what just happened.

That grin was back on her face as she turned towards him again.  “I think I want to try and catch another one!”

“Why?”

“So I know I can really catch a frog; I wasn’t just lucky that time!”

Levi scowled, looking down at all the berries that had been scattered everywhere while he’d flailed around trying to get away from the stupid, tiny frog.  She only laughed at his reaction, coming over and grabbing his arm to pull him up onto his feet, dragging him with her towards the trees.

“Okay, okay, we can play hide and seek instead.  There’s plenty of places to hide in the woods.  C’mon, c’mon!”

And just like that, the little hellion frog was forgotten as she urged him on towards the next experience, sweeping him away into more discoveries and experiences before he had the chance to dwell too long on whatever bad tried to poke through.  Even though his legs were shaky, she volunteered to be ‘it’ over and over so he could rest in his hiding spots while she tried to find him, stopping every now and then to look at a bug they’d found, to pick a few berries from the bushes in the area, and at one point, to stare in wonder at a small nest of baby bunnies hidden in a hollow at the base of a tree.  They looked but didn’t touch, watching the two tiny rabbits squinting back at them with their little noses twitching furiously, the two rabbits curled close together much like Levi and Y/N had curled up under the blankets last night.

And when the sky started to turn to a rusted orange, she carried him on her back without complaint once again as they headed towards her house once more.  Levi could hardly stand after all the running around they’d done, but he didn’t regret it.  In fact, he was perfectly content, even with the burn in his legs and ache in his arms.  He was already dozing off as he tucked his head against her back once again, the exhaustion mixed with the relief from her carrying him back instead of him having to walk back, mixed in with the warm air and the dim light from the sun making it easy to simply...drift…

He woke up long enough to realize when he was being set down in front of the little house, weaving on his feet as Y/N helped him back inside and he curled up in the cloud of blankets and pillows with a softly sighed good-night, his hand groping about to find Tuff before he slipped into a blissful sleep.

When Levi opened his eyes again, it wasn’t to the bright light filtering into the tiny house as he curled up in a nest of blankets.  It was dark, and the smell of sweat and dirt and decay assaulted him much more viscerally after the contrast of the clean, fresh air.  He wasn’t even curled up on his side like he’d been when he’d fallen asleep, but still sitting with his knees pulled up to his chest, back against the wall, arms wrapped around his legs.

Directly across from him was the bed that still had his mother’s dead body.

It was...a dream?

Blinking slowly, it seemed he hadn’t moved an inch, and he was covered in dirt and grime once more, not a hint of a clean patch of skin after scrubbing clean by that pond.

Or was I...seeing things?

It didn’t matter...it wasn’t real.  Levi’s heart plummeted, and he ducked his head into his arms, surprised that his eyes actually stung with tears when he’d thought he was too dehydrated to cry anymore.  None of it was real.  The surface, the sun, the air, all the green, the nest of blankets, the food, the girl...it wasn’t real.  He was still wasting away, forgotten where no one cared about him anymore, waiting to finally die.  If he was seeing things, maybe he was finally close.

And yet…

The door to the room opened, a pale yellow light cutting across the room and over the bed, drawing Levi’s attention towards the man who stood just inside the doorway.  The sudden appearance made him forget--for the time being--that he wasn’t hungry anymore.

*Reader’s POV*

“Where do you think you’re going with that bowl, young lady?”

You froze by the back door, a bowl of cereal you were hoping to bring out to Levi before you had to go to school in hand, suddenly feeling cold at your mother’s scolding tone.  This was it, you’d been caught, you couldn’t think of an excuse fast enough and your mother was already closing in, probably to take the bowl from you, but Levi needed to eat before you left.

Looks like you couldn’t hide the boy in your playhouse much longer.  Why did you feel like telling your mom about him was going to get you in trouble.

“I...I need to...Levi needs breakfast,” you said in a small voice, feeling like you were about to get yelled at any moment.

“Levi?” your mother asked, pausing just by the door.  “Who’s Levi?”

“T...The boy in the playhouse.”

Her expression went blank, and then for some reason, worried.  “There’s a boy in the playhouse?”

You nodded very slowly.  “He-he’s been there since the other day.  He needs to eat before I go to school, or he’ll have to wait till I’m home.”

Your mother’s expression was unreadable as she stared at you and the bowl in your hand for several long moments, then carefully said in an even tone, “Can I see Levi?”

She wasn’t yelling, so you didn’t think she was angry.  Maybe this was good--if your mom knew about Levi, she could make sure he was taken care of while you were at school--he could have real food and eat dinner inside with you, sleep in a bed--or on the couch at least--and probably get a change of clothes.

After you nodded, your mom took the bowl out of your hands and followed you outside towards the playhouse.  You hoped he was already awake--he probably was, since he’d fallen asleep so early yesterday.

“Levi?” You called softly, opening the door to see...a mass of blankets and pillows, like yesterday.  Again, you pushed around a few of the blankets but couldn’t find him.  Your mom was standing outside the house with the bowl still and you shook your head as you immediately went to look in the brush again.  “He was back here when I came outside yesterday, he’s probably there, now.”

“Y/N…” your mother was starting to say tiredly, but you were already picking through the trees looking for Levi again, ignoring her as you tried to find your new friend.

“Levi?  Levi?  Levi!” you called, hoping his head would peek around one of the trees again.  But he didn’t show up--you couldn’t find a trace of him.  Did he leave?  Did he leave in the middle of the night or before you woke up?  He’d seemed happy yesterday, so why would he leave?  Didn’t he like you, didn’t he like sleeping in the blanket nest?

“Y/N, its okay to have imaginary friends, but you can’t waste food on them, they don’t eat like you and mommy and daddy--” your mother was saying carefully behind you.  Hearing her suggest Levi wasn’t real made you suddenly angry and frustrated as well as hurt at the thought that Levi had simply left.

“He wasn’t imaginary, he was real!  A real boy that was really here!”  Your eyes burned and a few angry, hurt tears slipped past your eyes, the words starting to stick in your throat as you felt yourself starting to cry.  “His name was Levi...and he didn’t even say bye.”

Next Chapter--->

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Tag List:   @humanitys-hottestsoldier​​ @fanartdom​​ @kaz2y5-pie​ @tartheyes​ @super-peace-fangirl​ @huntersbunker​​ @nefelimalfoy​​​ @soft-levi-girl-blog​​ @kissing-violet-wings​​ @regalillegal​​ @sugas-daddy7​

[beyond-the-mirror]

Drunk uncle Dante explains: How babies are made

The sequel nobody asked for! Drunk uncle Dante is back with another disastrous story for poor innocent baby Nero.

Written purely for laughs and giggles, so it’s not meant to be taken seriously at all. Also, this is merely a parody of a series of videos called ‘Drunk uncle explains’, you can check the original video right here if you want to (It’s in spanish however, but subtitles are available).

Warning: Slight NSFW? I mean this is Dante we are talking about, do you seriously expect him to behave properly and watch his mouth? Obviously not!

……….

Dante was currently sitting on his old worn out leather couch, a warm cup of tea resting between his hands. He gently blew on it to help cool it down before taking a sip, the bitter taste overwhelming his tastebuds and making him contort his face in disgust. He didn’t understand why his brother Vergil insisted so much on him to start drinking more tea instead of beer and whiskey, still he didn’t have the heart to reject the warm cup Vergil had prepared for him previously.

Of course, one shouldn’t expect Dante to behave for once. Eyeing the whiskey bottle on the table next to him, he reached for the bottle and poured a generous amount of alcohol into his tea.

Taking another sip, he smiled in content. ‘Much better’ he muttered to himself, leaning back to enjoy some relaxing time.

That is until a light set of footsteps hurriedly approached him. “Uncle Dante! Uncle Dante!” Little Nero skipped excitedly before sitting on the floor right in front of his uncle.

“What do you want now kid?” Dante asked before taking a sip from his beverage.

“How are babies made?”

Spitting out tea out of sheer shock and surprise, Dante looked at his baby nephew with a bewildered look on his face. Whelp, he definitely wasn’t expecting that one at all.

“Ewww! That was gross uncle Dante!” Nero giggled while looking at the disaster his uncle made on the carpet.

“Whoa kid wait a minute now, why did you come up with that question?”

“Please uncle Dante, I’m curious to know!” Oh no, not the puppy eyes again...

“Alright, alright then kid. Let’s see.” He cleared his throat “How babies are made.”

“Yayyy! Thank you uncle Dante!”

“No need to thank me buddy, after all, I know for sure that you have a reeeally irresponsible father. But luckily you have me, a smart and educated uncle, a man of the world-”

“Silence you sovereign buffoon!” Vergil’s angry voice interrupted from inside a nearby room. “Or should I remind you about the time you failed preschool?”

“C’mon Verge! I’m saying that I’m a guy who reads a lot, books and all that stuff-”

“Porn magazines don’t count as books you scum!”

“I already explained a thousand times, those are artistic nudes goddammit!”

Letting out a frustrated growl at his brother, Dante calmed down before turning once again to Nero who was looking at him expectantly.

“Now, let’s see how babies are made. Once upon a time, there was a little bee. A very handsome and well-endowed bee who had the biggest stinger in the entire world.” Dante smirked to himself, the man obviously picturing himself. 

“Oh really?” Vergil called out once again. “When you were born, our father mistook you for a baby girl!”

“Well if you saw me now, the joke would totally be on you...” Dante muttered under his breath before clearing his throat and continuing with the story. “Anyways. This bee was seeking a pretty flower to hang out with, but because he didn’t have enough cash to get into a strip club, the bee ended up getting into a bar.”

“Wait uncle Dante, what is a strip club?”

“Well let’s say it’s kinda liiike... a luxury flower shop.”

“Really? Can you take me there to get a flower? Pretty please?”

“Ehhh no because emm...” Dante now struggled to find a good excuse to stop Nero from wanting to go to a ‘strip club’, that is until the light bulb in his head finally went on. “The flowers are actually fake! They may look pretty but really they’re made of plastic. But if you insist, once you turn 18 I promise to take you to one. You’re paying tho.”

“Yayy! Thank you uncle Dante!” Little Nero beamed, blissfully ignorant to the truth.

“So! The little bee walked into the bar where he found his flower, and man what a flower she was! Beautiful, gorgeous, with enormous bouncy petals and-” he described as both his hands made grabby gestures above his chest.

“COULD YOU STOP TALKING TO MY SON AS IF HE WERE ONE OF YOUR ACQUAINTANCES?!”

“Whatever, sheesh...” Dante rolled his eyes. Seriously, his brother was no fun at all.

“And then did the little bee give the pretty flower his pollen?”

“Oh not yet, little buddy! First he invited her a few drinks to get to know each other a little better, like a nice glass of honey on... the rocks. And then, the little bee took her to the bathroom.”

Nero’s eyes filled with confusion “The bathroom? Why?”

“Because the flower ehhh...” this story was getting harder to explain for a drunken Dante, the last time his brain had to work like this was Christmas last year. “She needed some water! Yeah, that... except the flower may have misunderstood the intentions of the little bee.” With his head down, he quietly muttered his next words “Damn, I can still feel the slap she gave me.”

“I once dressed as a flower for a school play.” Nero added proudly and Dante couldn’t help but chuckle at the adorable image in his mind. How fondly he remembered that day, to this day he still kept the pictures he took.

“The little bee tried his best to flirt with the other flowers but with no success, that is until a special flower walked into the bar. She was quite the pretty thing, with bright eyes and a personality like no other... truly a beautiful lady.”

“Wait, Lady? The woman who you now owe lots of money and because of that she took your car?”

“No that ain’t true! She only borrowed the car temporarily!”

“And now here you are!” Vergil’s voice rang throughout the room, ready to complain about Dante again with no doubt. “Living in my house like a pathetic parasite!”

“You are still making me pay rent, though?!”

“You owe FOUR months already!”

Dante sighed in defeat. What a rotten luck he had in life.

“Okay, let’s continue with our story. The little bee had no luck finding a flower, but surprisingly, his uglier and way smaller twin brother-” he voiced rather loudly so Vergil could perfectly hear “-actually did get one. He took the flower to his hive where he gave her some pollen; however, the ugly bee couldn’t pull out his teeny tiny stinger on time. And nine months later, a new baby bee was born from the flower: a beautiful white-haired bumblebee named Nero.”

The devil hunter smiled warmly at the boy sitting in front of him, whose arrival to their lives was truly a blessing to the rather odd family they had going on.

The boy giggled cutely, a faint blush on his round cheeks. “Thank you for the story uncle Dante.” The man smiled in return before taking a sip from his spiked tea. For a moment he believed that the little one would now get up and leave as he would normally do after one of his stories. Oh how wrong he was.

“But there’s something I still don’t understand.” Nero questioned “In which part of the story do the sperm, the penis and the vagina come in?”

Dante did another spit take, the carpet once again completely soaked in tea and alcohol. “Wait WHAT?!”

“Contrary to you, my dear brother,” Vergil entered the scene, picking up little Nero and carrying him in his arms. “I do actually make sure to always give my son the best and most complete education possible. Now if you excuse us, it’s time for Nero to go visit his friend Kyrie like I promised him the other day. Say goodbye to your uncle, Nero.” At the mention of his friend’s name, the boy beamed and tightly hugged his dad, thanking him over and over.

“See you later, uncle Dante!” And with those words, the stoic devil hunter turned around and made his way to the door with his son in arms, leaving Dante with a rather flabbergasted expression on his face.

[archadianskies]

Sea glass

→ on Ao3

@dbhrarepairs Monday Day 1: Confession / Flowers; post-revolution Ralph/Bellini Paints Jerry

Deviancy isn’t a jarring, violent event for him. Deviancy bears no trauma, no sadness, no weeping like an open wound unrepaired so unlike the jarring violence he watched on the news. 

Deviancy was slow and steady and gentle; the removal of a wall brick by brick. His entire life is this store, its walls lined with jars of pigments and illuminated with soft ambient lighting. All the cherry lacquer cabinetry has a pleasing rosy hue to the wood, and the polished brass knobs and handles aid in the stately, regal aesthetic of the brand. 

He was purchased for Mr Giuseppe and Mrs Francesca Bellini in 2028 by Alessandro Bellini, their son, who had no interest in carrying on the family business. What began as menial help unpacking stock and keeping things tidy soon grew into him helping out at the counter and measuring precise pigment orders. 

As the Bellinis aged he took on more and more responsibilities, and never once were they unkind to him, never once did they treat him as a cold unfeeling machine like so many others. Once the store closed, Francesca would sit him on a chair in the tiny tea room and wrap a knitted shawl around his shoulders to keep the chill at bay. 

He learned to make them tea the way they liked it, and that the bakery further down, Essie’s, had sweet pastries that paired well with their tea. Giuseppe would pat his hands sometimes, a distant look in his eyes as he smiled a distracted smile. 

He felt…calm with them. He felt feelings, good ones, whenever they interacted with him. He learned the names of the regulars, including the famous Carl Manfred who seemed very good friends with them both. 

Death doesn’t affect androids the same way it affects humans, but he learns grief is the same. Giuseppe dies one Autumn eve in 2031 and he misses him like a missing biocomponent. Bellini Paints does not feel complete without Giuseppe Bellini. 

A year passes and Carl Manfred gets into a horrible vehicle accident and can only manage online orders. One day an android turns up to collect Carl Manfred’s order. He does not look like any other android he has seen, nor any on the CyberLife catalogue. He has a gentle, friendly demeanour that is at odds with the methodical, purposeful behaviours programmed into androids. 

The years trickle by, soft and slow and gentle like rain off rooftops.

A revolution happens and rocks America to its core and yet at the same time it seems like nothing has changed at all. Life goes on. Francesca leaves the city with her son well before the President’s orders but he gets her messages, her daily little ‘make sure you put on your shawl at night’s and ‘sleep well :)’s. 

He comes to Jericho for the celebration of the Sentient Life Act and finally interacts with others of his kind and they ask him for his story, for his name. Vincent, he says, like Vincent Van Gogh because his hair is sunset red and he’s always liked his paintings.

They are alive, beautifully, colourfully, joyfully alive and he knows he is one of the lucky ones. Deviancy has been beautiful, colourful and joyful for him when it was harsh, cruel and sudden for others. Most bear their scars inside, but others have them carved in their casing. Human cruelty is as boundless as their kindness, varying by luck alone it seems. 

One such android he meets on a late afternoon in the alleyway behind the store as he’s disposing of the delivery boxes. He’s a WR600 with a heavily scarred face and a damaged eye, immediately brandishing a knife when he realises he’s been spotted.

“It’s alright.” Vincent slowly sets the boxes down and holds up his palms in surrender, letting the skin recede to bear the white plastic beneath.

“O-oh you’re-” the android nods rapidly, red LED cycling down to yellow. “Sorry, Ralph doesn’t like humans. Humans aren’t nice to Ralph.”

“I’m sorry to hear that, Ralph. I’m Vincent.”

“Vincent. Vincent. Vincent.” He repeats softly under his breath, as if committing it to memory. “Humans keep you here?”

“No.” He shakes his head with a smile. “I stay here because I want to.”

“With humans?”

“Yes.” A nod, a sigh. “Well. One human now. There used to be two.”

“Humans are fragile.” Ralph nods rapidly, distracted. “Soft.”

“Can I help you? Would you like to come inside?” Still ensuring his movements are slow so as not to startle him, Vincent gestures at the door and opens it wider. “It’s cold out here, and there’s heating inside.”

“No human?”

“No human.” He reassures with a nod, standing aside so Ralph can peer into the storeroom and confirm for himself. “She’s with her son. She’s old and will come back when Detroit’s a little warmer.” 

“No human.” Ralph nods rapidly and shuffles inside. He’s clutching a worn book in his hands, and the broken pastels Vincent had thrown out the other day since they were unfit to be sold. Ralph catches his line of sight, and nervously holds out the book. “When Detroit’s a little warmer.” 

It’s an old worn notebook most likely salvaged from trash, pages waterlogged and creased but what few pages remain have been transformed into intricate garden plans. 

“Ralph will plant seeds again. Grow things, nice things, big green things and flowers too.” His smile is bright and contagious, and Vincent finds himself smiling too. “Good good things.”

“Where will you grow your garden, Ralph?”

“New place, here, see? Ralph will grow them here.” He flips over to a different page and there’s a meticulously replicated map of Detroit city. “Here, by the bridge. Good size, near friend.”

“You’re friends with Theobald?” Vincent’s smile grows. “The brewer?”

“Good friend! Ralph is good friends. He’s very nice. Lets me sleep inside the brewing room. It’s very warm.” 

“Did you need more drawing supplies, Ralph?” The other android nods enthusiastically. “Here, I’ll fetch you more. And a nicer visual diary, for when you run out of room.” He’s not sure if he’s allowed to give things away, but he’s considered alive now and he’s worked here for years so surely Mrs Bellini won’t mind? He chooses a tin of coloured pencils and a lovely brown leather diary with 200gsm pages. “Here.”

“For…Ralph?”

“Yes.” Vincent nods. “And you can come show me your progress, does that sound like a fair trade?”

“Ralph can do that!” 

The snow melts away into Spring, slowly but surely, and that means during the transition between seasons there’s lots of rain and heavy slush. Detroit’s human citizens grumble and groan about how bleak the weather is but Vincent rather enjoys it from the cosiness inside Bellini Paints. Cold Winter weather and wet Spring weather are rather ideal conditions for staying inside to create art and so he’s kept busy filling boxes, attaching the smaller ones to drones and stacking the larger ones for the delivery team. Every so often he’d find Ralph waiting by the back entrance, fidgeting in the shadows and darting nervous glances until he let him in.

“They’re starting to bud! See? See!” Ralph excitedly shows him detailed drawings filling page after page; photographs replicated in pencil almost as if they belonged in an encyclopedia.

“You draw so beautifully, Ralph.” He compliments with a smile and Ralph flashes him an ecstatic grin before it wobbles into something a little shy, a little self-conscious. 

“Ralph just draws what he sees.” 

“How beautiful.” He says, and he feels like he’s not really talking about the way he sees plants anymore.

It’s a soft, fair afternoon and he’s left the back door open to let in the warm breeze and carry out the smell of paint that somehow lives in the very walls. There’s a faint scratching noise which would be unsettling to most but Vincent knew the origin well.

“Hello Ralph.” He greets before he turns around, and there’s Ralph scratching his hand across the doorframe in his shy anxious way of knocking. “Come to show me an update?”

“Ralph brings gifts.” His voice is a little unsure, a little nervous and Vincent smiles encouragingly.

“Gifts?” 

“Ralph traded for them, Ralph made posters for Theo.” Enthusiasm flashes across his face and he thrusts out a neat carry case of four bottles. “Ralph and Vincent can drink them! We can do like the humans do!”

“Oh, is this Tearium?” Setting the pack on the breakroom table, he carefully extracts one of the glass bottles. “I’ve only had this once, when the Sentient Life Act was passed and there was that big party at Jericho.”

“This one is special.” Ralph nearly bounces with excitement. “Special special! Special for Ralph! Theo made it for Ralph!”

“Then let me get the special cups.” Vincent declares, opening the cupboard and taking out Francesca’s lovely tea set; a gift from her son when he traveled abroad. “What flavour is it?”

“Ralph won’t tell! It’s a surprise!” Ralph giggles, hands flapping as if barely able to contain his excitement. Carefully pouring them an equal share, Vincent raises the dainty bone china cup to his lips and takes a tentative sip. 

Tearium is usually meant to be charged through a small device to heat it up, but even at room temperature the beverage is pleasant to consume. The coding spreads over his tongue and he tastes apples and cinnamon and a heaping of honey, like an apple pie that’s been turned into a drink or, well, he supposes that’s what it is since he’s not built to eat things. 

He likes it, and he likes that he likes it very much because liking things is in itself an act of deviancy and one to rejoice in. 

“It’s wonderful Ralph, thank you for sharing.”

“We can do like the humans do.” He says again, only his tone is different, like he’s nervously seeking approval from him. 

“We can, Ralph.” Vincent nods, smiling as Ralph sips his own drink. “The two of us having a cup of tea during our break, like Mr and Mrs Bellini would do.” 

The words come out of his mouth and they taste… like something he’s never tasted before, like this drink that’s new and wonderful and sweet. It fills him with warmth in the same way, and Ralph’s smile isn’t so wobbly from nerves it’s small and hopeful and shy and Vincent thinks he likes it very much.

“Oh Vincent, where is your shawl?” Mrs Francesca Bellini chides, tutting at him as she shuffles around looking for the knitted article. “You know it’s still chilly by the time we close, even if we’re almost into Summer.”

“Yes Mrs Bellini.” Vincent smiles apologetically. “Let me fetch it from the breakroom, I left it on the back of one of the chairs.” It is exactly where he left it, the yarn soft and pliant under his hands and it is a joy to touch, to hold after all these years because it belongs to him, because it was made for him and no one else. 

Draping it around his shoulders, he re-enters the store only to find Ralph frozen still in the doorway, Francesca curiously looking at him from behind the counter. The android is clutching something behind his back, good eye wide in shock and LED bright red.

“Can I help you young man?” Francesca blinks, making a beckoning gesture. “It’s alright, I haven’t closed the banking off yet.”

“R-R-” Their eyes lock and Ralph steadies himself. “Ralph is here to see Vincent.”

“Oh! Well he’s just- there you are.” Francesca pats his shoulder approvingly, nodding at the shawl tucked around his shoulders. “Shall I leave you to close up? Alessandro will be here soon.”

“Yes Mrs Bellini.” He confirms with a small smile and she looks at him, scrutinises him for a moment before looking over at Ralph. She must see something he doesn’t because she smiles suddenly, a big bright smile that makes her eyes crinkle. She pats his shoulder again before leaving through the breakroom and out the back.

“You’ve never come through the front of the store before, Ralph.” Vincent comments as Ralph seems to use all his willpower to put one foot in front of the other until he’s standing opposite him, the counter between them. “It’s good to see you.”

“R-Ralph brought these. For you.” He thrusts a colourful bouquet of flowers at him, such an array it reminds him of an artist’s palette. When he accepts the bouquet, the realisation spreads through him like warm apple and cinnamon Tearium.

“These are the flowers you’ve been growing.” Vincent murmurs, and somehow it’s a beautiful joy and a beautiful hurt in his chest all at once, like an ache but a good kind. “Is this your update, Ralph?”

“We-we can-” he stammers, LED still red but determination in his eyes and perhaps maybe even some sort of yearning too. “We can…do like the humans do. Like your humans. The good ones. We can be together like them- if- if you want?”

“Yes Ralph.” Vincent smiles, reaching over to gently cup his palm against his damaged faceplate and he’s never been broken, never been ugly to him; his face is like sea glass, something buffeted and struck down and polished into something beautiful. “I want that very much.”

[sugamoonv]

How Rude

Like A Mate Should

Summary: Namjoon and Jin see you being attacked as a godsend. You see it your attack and meeting them as a series of unfortunate events. How unfortunate that you’re their mate. 

Pairings: established NamJin / Namjin x Reader

Word Count: 3,360

Masterlist > Next

“What do you mean you’ve never met a werewolf!?”

You were sitting at a round table with a few of your friends. Some eating as a few dishes took longer to cook in the restaurant. You saw each other a lot since you were the same major and thus shared multiple classes and so had made it a thing to eat lunch together after class.

You shrugged and swirled the straw around in your glass of water with your tongue. Your friend, [F/N], stared at you with wide eyes and shook her head in disbelief causing you to laugh and abandon your drink. “What do you want me to tell you? My childhood was very sheltered. My mom didn’t trust them.”

“And what about you?” one of the girls was watching you with a scrutinizing gaze. She was already on edge with the liberal use of werewolf because while it wasn’t considered a slur, it was seen as ignorant and derivative. Shifter was the technical term. Her minor was in Hybrid Law and shifters fell under the umbrella of hybrids since they were cousins to the wolf hybrid. It was highly debated in the field whether shifters were bred from wolf hybrids or if wolf hybrids came from shifters. Experimenting was illegal since they were part human, so it was all theoretical.

You shrugged again, “I don’t know I’ve never met one. At least I don’t think I have? I mean I don’t have any reason to hate them or anything.”

This must have been an adequate enough answer because she went back to her garden salad. You were finally allowed to eat as your usual plate was placed in front of you and the topic shifted off of you back to class.

One by one, everyone at the table paid their portion of the check and packed their food to leave. Two girls shared the same class and so they had to leave right after lunch and everyone else used them leaving as a leeway to leave themselves. Talk about plans of going to the library, dorm, or gym filled the air as chairs were pushed in and backpacks were slung over shoulders.

You waved as you departed in the opposite direction as everyone. [F/N] walked alongside you. You both got caught up in idle chit chat when your shoulder was roughly shoved causing you to half spin to face a man. You rolled your eyes and turned back to your friend to begin walking away. After crossing the road, you glanced back to see the man standing in the same spot you left him with a confused scowl on his face but when he sensed you looking, he looked up from the ground, turned, and began walking again.

You focused back on what your friend was saying with a confused roll of your eyes at the man's strange behavior.

“So I got a date…” you look at her expectantly and grin when you see her eyes light up. After being turned down at a party some time ago and whining about it to her for a couple weeks, she forced you into a dating app. Not to find true love but to have distractions. And if you found true love then that was an added bonus. Her words.

    You breathily laughed, “And before you offer to help because I know you're obsessed with those outfit montages they do in movies,” you teasingly point to her, “I already have an outfit picked out and I can handle doing my own makeup.”

“What about your hair?” she raises her eyebrows at you.

“My hair is fine,” you lightheartedly defend yourself, “I don’t want to do anything to it because they’re taking me on a picnic and it’s supposed to be windy that day.”

The wind howled as it whipped your hair about. You cursed yourself for cutting it as it was now too short for you to tie it back but long enough to keep getting in your face. You dramatically pushed another strand out of your eyes and your date laughed at you from their spot on the blanket. A cliche wicker basket full of safe lunch food sat in between you and plastic cups of cheap, sparkling wine was balancing on the ground next to you.

The sun beat down on you. Sitting in the warmth felt heavenly but the hike to the field felt like pure torture. You almost sprained your ankle twice on the rocky trail in the flimsy sandals you paired with the sundress. It was annoying that your date had walked ahead of you the whole time but now that you were sitting, you quickly brushed it off.

“So....what major are you?” you asked the question to break the awkward silence.

Your date seemed to be too nervous to initiate any conversation, but once they were given a prompt, they immediately delved into what they wanted to do with their life and all the things about their major that they’re passionate about. Which would have been nice if you understood a lick of what they were saying. To you, it all sounded like jargon, especially since they jumped into complex topics rather than briefly explaining the basics. It also didn’t help that they spoke while eating so instead of focusing on the words they were saying, all you could focus on was the lip-smacking.

They cleared their throat and took another large bite of their ham sandwich. You glanced at your own paper plate of food in disinterest and slightly pushed it away from you. You sat waiting for them to ask you the same question if not something else but were left hanging as they finished their sandwich and began making another.

You sat in silence for what seemed like an eternity when your date suddenly stood up and brushed their hands together to knock of crumbs. “I really have to go to the bathroom.” They strangely bent their wrist back to point at the line of trees circling the clearing and you nodded. They were halfway to the trees when you looked at their empty cup then the bottle of wine consecutively. Nearly three-quarters of it was gone. Your cup was still half full from when they first opened the bottle.

You gave your date extra time because peeing in the woods wasn’t as convenient as a regular bathroom. But then 10 minutes passed, then 15, then 20, and after 25 minutes you knew they weren’t coming back. Whether that was because they had gotten lost or ditched you was the question.

You abandoned the basket of food and left in the same direction your date went. You should have been sensible and only walked in far enough to still see the clearing, but you stupidly kept venturing further into the woods. Looking either for your date or the path they used to escape. After a few minutes of walking and finding nothing, you turned back to the direction you thought you came from. But after walking a few minutes back to the clearing and seeing no signs of it, panic grew in your chest.

The spot you were taken to had immediately blocked you from getting service. You switched your phone to battery saver mode and pushed back tears before turning and retracing your steps. From the time on your phone, you estimated that you had been wandering around the woods for around an hour.

The more time passed, the more panicked your breathing became as you grew more and more certain that you were officially lost. The ground betrayed you with its soft appearance of dewy leaves, soft dirt, and sporadic patches of grass. What you found that the soil and leaves were hiding sharp rocks and twisted roots from your view and now you were carrying your broken sandals in your right hand. Your dirt covered feet padded along the earth, careful to sense where best to step.

The shadows that came with afternoon began stretching past you. Goosebumps formed your arms in the cool shade. The woods seemed darker than they did at the entrance and the birds didn’t chirp as loudly here. The hair on the back of your neck raised as your body instinctively began scouting for danger in the unmarked territory.

Your frustration quickly transformed into fear as a loud snap sounded from behind you. Then another, and another, and another, each one louder than the last. Your feet carried you away from the source, a quick walk then a full sprint as the snapping behind you picked up the pace with you.

Flashes of red and black flanked your sides as you ran, slowly inching diagonally towards you to cut you off. You pushed your foot into the earth and took off in the opposite direction and while it gave you a second ahead of them, their reflexes were far better than yours and you found yourself in the same situation.

You could feel the heavy thuds of the wolves paws against the soil as they got close enough from you. One wolf moved behind you and its footprints fully replaced yours with their own. The skin on your arms burned from the blood flow and a sharp pang restricted your already heavy panting.

Just as the wolf on your side made a move to knock into you, another wolf smaller than the wolf chasing you smashed into its chest and they became a flurry of black and reddish black fur and teeth.

The wolf behind you saw that it no longer had the opportunity to have fun with the chase as it and its’ partner had visitors. The wolf lunged forward and an intense pain shot up your leg as its teeth pierced your ankle. With the wolf having a hold of your ankle, you lost your balance and only when you harshly landed on your stomach, did the wolf release you to stumble forward before you caught yourself.

Ignoring your ankle, you scrambled back to your feet but once standing, the wolf rammed its shoulder into your body and you were forced back into the dirt. Stars filled your vision as you were thrown about and your body didn’t have enough time to pump blood to where it needed to go.

The wolf lurked so it was standing above you looking down at you. You blinked rapidly and your body froze as you locked eyes with the dark red canine eyes. Its lips slowly turned up into a snarl and you were introduced to the large, pointed teeth. Just as you thought this would be the end of you, the wolf was yanked off of you by another wolf that too was smaller.

This wolf may have been smaller than the black wolf it was fighting, but you could tell that it held more power that it appeared it did. The black wolf was quickly pinned to the ground by the chestnut brown wolf where its’ teeth locked into their neck. Every time the back wolf attempted to move, the brown wolf you give a vicious shake of its head and push the wolf down.

Two hands suddenly appeared under your arms as they scooped you up. As they brought you to stand on your feet, you accidentally put weight on your injured ankle causing your legs to fold under you with a yelp. Luckily, the person behind you was quick to react and caught you before you hit the ground. You tried to look behind you to see who was holding you up but a crick in your neck told you it was a bad idea and so you just kept your eyes forward.

The brown wolf gave one last shake, yanking the black wolf around before it backed off and gave a threatening growl. The black wolf sprang to its feet and ran off. Once it was some ways away, you heard a howl and another wolf joining in, you assumed it was the other that was chasing you. The brown wolf faced you and your nails dug into the arm of the person behind you. You pushed against the person’s chest but for some reason, they refused to move.

You could swear that the eyes of the wolf were human and were staring at you with sympathy. You held your breath as you waited for this wolf to take its turn attacking you but instead, it took a few step backs. The sound of bones snapping made your stomach churn as you gaped at the wolf slowly transforming into a human. When a human man, naked as the day he was born, was standing in front of you with the same colored hair atop his head as his wolf counterpart, black spots filled your vision and you slumped in the arms of the stranger.

“I’m telling you, this is the girl I ran into two days ago.”

“Taehyung, stop. You’re going to hurt her!”

“Stop, I’m not going to hurt your mate.”

“Taehyung, get out.”

The loud slam of a door jolted you awake and you opened your eyes to see two men surrounding the bed your on. One is tending to your leg and the other is sitting by your head and drops your hand once he sees your eyes are open.

“Jin.” the man draws the attention of the one tending to you to your state.

This Jin has black hair and soft, plump facial features with broad shoulders while the other man is thinner and most likely taller. The other man has silver hair and a weaker jawline than his counterpart though it’s still noticeable. Something about the man is familiar to you but you can’t quite put your finger on why nor do you have the time to.

Jin looks up to you while you scoot yourself back. He gives you a large smile that makes you question whether you’ll be leaving this place alive. Noticing your discomfort, Jin drops his smile with an embarrassed chuckle and clears his throat.

“I noticed your ankle got hurt. I was bandaging it wi-”

“Where am I?” you rudely cut Jin off and scoot further away onto the bed away from him.

His lips part in shock and he glances at the other man before looking back at you. He sputters, “You- um, you’re at, um, well it’s a- our,” Jin tries to explain your location with various gestures and eventually looks to the other man for help.

“This is our cabin. We found you a couple miles away from us and you didn’t look to be in good shape, so we brought you here.” He stares at you for a few moments before seemingly shouting, “I’m Namjoon, by the way,” and nervously laughing.

You disregard Namjoon by looking back to Jin. Your eyes flicker as you connect the dots in your head.

“The werewolf,” you whisper. Your head shoots to Namjoon then back to Jin. “I was attacked by two werewolves. Then there were two other werewolves. I saw one shift right in front of me.” Your eyes widen, “Was there someone with me? There was someone else that was with me. Are they okay?”

You keep your wide eyes on Jin waiting for answers. Your eyes are brought to Namjoon as he comfortingly takes your hand. Or at least tries to because to pull yourself away from him. Namjoon uncomfortably laughs and apologizes to hide the pang of rejection.

“That was Jimin and he’s fine. He helped bring you here.”

“He brought....You’re all werewolves.” You eyeball Namjoon with your eyebrows slightly pinched. You catch Jin flinching in your peripheral vision but Namjoon confidently holds your gaze.

You swing your feet onto the wood floor and stand from the bed which causes Jin to panic and runs around the bed to you. He lightly puts his hands on your shoulders to push you back onto the bed but you slap his hands away from him and limp past him.

Jin follows right behind you and reaches out to grab your upper arm, “Wait, wait, wait. You can’t be on your ankle. You’re going to hurt yourself.”

Namjoon calmly stands and walks to you and Jin. There’s something profound lurking in Namjoon’s now darkened eyes. Something you have yet to understand. So you yank open the door, nearly hitting Jin in the face and startling some other man that had his ear pressed to the door. You step over the man on the floor and continue to walk away from Namjoon and Jin. Or at least you try to.

By the time you reach the end of the hall, you're using the wall for support and you feel the bandage around your ankle grow wet with your wound beginning to bleed again. The sight of blood sends Jin into a new frenzy and he begins to frantically beg you to go back to the bed, carry you, or even just sit on the floor so he can care for you. He keeps reaching out to you, but his hands stop just short to touching you as so far you’ve expressed your disdain to personal contact. And making you more upset at him is the last thing Jin wants to do, especially since that means you’ll reject him helping you like he should. Like a mate should.

There are three more men watching you leave a trail of blood to the door. None of them look like the man that shifted in front of you.

Right as you reach what you think is the front door, a hand drags you back by your shoulder. You stumble back and nearly lose your balance but Jin is there to catch you. He angrily scolds Namjoon before turning to you as your face is scrunched in pain.

Namjoon taps Jin out of the way to step in front of you. “You’re injured and don’t know where you are. Realistically, how far do you think you’ll get?”

You gawk at the silver-haired man, “How dare you put your hands on me like that!” You shove against Namjoon’s chest creating some distance between your bodies. “Who the fuck do you think you are? You have absolutely no right to keep me here. If I want to leave, I’m going to leave. It shouldn’t concern you how far I’ll get, I can handle myself.”

Namjoon’s jaw clenches and he meets you glare with one as equally angry. “Fine,” he waves a hand to the door, “go then. But first, you might want to clean up your puddle of blood.”

You look down to your feet to see that you are in fact, standing in a pool of your own blood. While you were yelling at Namjoon, you had shifted your weight to both of your feet equally. You hadn’t even realized you had been bleeding this much.

“Enough!” Jin steps in between you and Namjoon. He looks at both of you with a harsh glare but his gaze promptly softens on you.

“I know you want to leave and no one is stopping you, but you honestly won’t last long with that ankle.” Jin softly explains to you. “Let me take care of you for a few days and take time to heal and then one of us will lead you back to the city. I promise we won’t hurt you.”

You blink at Jin then glance around the room to see all the faces staring at you. A blush forms on your cheek and you shift your weight back onto your good ankle. You mull over all the different ways staying with Namjoon and Jin could go before you finally nod your head. Jin lets out a sigh of relief and moves to lift you, but you shake your head at him. You begin limping back to the room with Jin walking alongside you, arms stretched out, prepared for you to slip at any moment.

Well, it looks like you’re going to be staying with the very creatures you were raised to distrust. This could only go so well.

Permanent Tag: @detectivebourbon @eshika0102 @omgsuperstarg

[sugarandspace]

A Pocket-Sized Shadowhunter

My ficlet for week 9 of @ficletinstruments!

Prompt: Person A is trying to maneuver through a crowd with a drink, but when someone bumps into them they lose their balance and spill their drink all over person B.

AO3

Magnus comes out of his apothecary, screwing a cap on a small bottle that’s holding a green liquid.

He’s maneuvering his way through the four kids on the floor as he explains to Clary, “It’s finished. Remember, a little comes a long way.”

Alec watches from his spot at the couch as Max and Rafael play with their cousins. He’d pay to see Jace use the shrinking potion Magnus had just finished brewing but they had agreed to look after the couple’s twin girls while Jace and Clary went on the mission.

The girls are lovely, but full of energy. They are playing on the floor with the boys, an array of lego blocks and plastic dinosaurs covering a good portion of the floor. Alec is taken by surprise when little Dorothea bounces up and starts running towards her mother. 

It looks like Magnus didn’t know to expect it either, because he collides with the blur of pink and starts falling. Alec’s quick reflexes cause him to reach out and balance his husband, but in the mess of limbs the loosely capped bottle slips from Magnus’ fingers and its contents fall to Alec’s chest.

Alec gasps at the cold sensation and Magnus straightens himself up immediately, looking at Alec before looking at the kids and then Clary.

“Biscuit,” he starts. His voice sounds calm but the adults in the room can hear the underlying panic. “Could you take the kids to the park?”

“Yeah of course,” Clary says, picking up on the urgency. She gathers the kids and Magnus creates a portal for them to walk through. 

“Magnus,” Alec asks, feeling a strange sensation starting to spread from his chest. “What is happening?”

He barely manages to get the words out of his mouth before the feeling intensifies and he finds the room around him getting bigger. Except that it didn’t get bigger - he just got a lot smaller.

“The potion worked,” Magnus says, his expression apologetic. 

Alec might be as tall as a pinky but he’s filled to the brim with fear.

“Please tell me you can fix this,” he says as he looks up at Magnus.

“Of course I can. Come with me,” he says and offers his hand for Alec to climb into.

“You are not carrying me!”

“No?”

“No,” Alec says stubbornly. He looks at the over a foot long drop from the couch to the floor and asks. “Do you think this fall would kill me?”

“I wouldn’t take the risk,” Magnus says simply and offers his hand again. “I promise not to tell anyone.”

“Fine,” Alec says and climbs onto Magnus’ palm. He holds on tightly even as Magnus is being careful with his movements.

“You know,” Magnus says. “I’m almost tempted to just wait for the potion to wear off. You look adorable.”

“Don’t you dare,” Alec growls.

Returning Alec to his normal size doesn’t take long, but it does take considerably longer for him to be able to laugh at what happened.